Not One Arm's Length Between, But Two

Not one...but two. That is what we had to do, And now, We cannot even do that. As of Friday last, Our outside two-arms'-lengths-in-between days Are past, A memory, alas, Gone now and for however much longer As this virus grows stronger, The invisible robber and disrupter Of lives and the world we used to know But know not now, The world of all those normal and everyday Miracles. How did we ever take all of it and everyone For granted? How? Everything now re-defined; Shops with no shoppers, Funerals with no mourners, Empty playgrounds and concert halls And trying to remember All those peopled times and places That are no more. The real birds have reclaimed the skies All to themselves, While the mechanical birds are grounded On silent and redundant airport taxiways And runways to nowhere now. But are they keeping two-arms'-lengths between? You wouldn't want one of them to sneeze... And inside we await that day, That day For which no one yet has a date.