The Widow: Sonnet # 3 in response to the pandemic

Before the church she knelt upon the street

To pray, I thought: I won’t disturb her now;

Yet, then she fell while struggling to her feet.

To help the needy always is my vow.

The widow coughed—she scared me to my core—

I helped her up, but she did cough again;

Her skin felt hot—I could not that ignore—

To catch this bug is not what I intend.

I have a choice, a moment to define

My soul, for who I am or who I claim

To be—who was I now? the worst or best?

My mind is good, I’ve never been unkind,

My nature is quite moral.  Then it came:

 Is this my moment absolute? A test!