A Naked Poet in Time of Plague

By now you are all used to seeing me in my everyday uniform, the one in which I was born, so I don't need to apologize or make excuses for it. The simple truth is that I want to get every ray of sunlight that I can get. I consider it medicinal and purifying. Somehow, I also think of it as protection.

For a few days now, I've been putting a chair out there for Sandy, too. With her Irish skin, she can't take as much sun as I can, thanks to my Cherokee genes. Supposedly she has some Blackfoot in her, but you'd never know it.

Here in Pasco County (the Naturist Capital of the USA), things are not as bad as in many other places: We have 51 confirmed cases, eight hospitalizations, and two deaths. I like to think that, at least for some of us, our nudity and exposure to the sun are helping, It's a notion I cling to, but nobody really knows.

Today, when I walked Betty, our sweet dog, three neighbors spoke to me, and I had extensive conversations with two of them (while we kept our distance). This tells me that people are feeling lonely and want social interaction. They will have that feeling for a long time. Thank heavens for the Internet!

We are thankful that we are living where we are, and that there is excellent medical care just a mile away. But we also know that we are both in a high-risk category due to our ages, especially Sandy, who has underlying health problems.

We do the best we can with hand-washing and social distancing, but we are not kidding ourselves: this monster could come and get us. In the meantime, we live life as best we can. Every morning I turn my naked body to the rising sun, and say a little prayer of thanksgiving.

Be well. Be healthy. Stay home. Take care of each other. We are sending you love and strength.

Text and image © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.