2020 was the year of the Lost Spring. Persephone did not come back from the underworld. Spring Maiden did not bring spring to us this year. I look, I search all over for her; I scramble, I strive, I run and run and keep on running....like Forrest Gump, as though there's no tomorrow. I wrote one villanelle per day since 3/16/2020, before shelter-in-place was announced in the San Francisco Bay Area, California. And this morning, 5/4/2020, I stop running, take a breath, and discover I did not end up at the end of the world. Planet earth is still here, I can take a walk. Please join me for a walk. You are invited. Be it 6 feet apart, 60 feet......6 miles, 60 miles.....6,000 miles.... wherever you are. This pandemic is a world-wide tragedy of historical proportions. Although no one suffers or experiences this trauma the same way, we probably all felt some degree of shock, frustration, stress, setback, victimization, disgust, being beaten down, helplessness, harrowing, turmoil, animus.....At the same time, unfortunately, we witnessed deaths and the picture of what death is like; tears, blame, lament, depression, hopelessness, a glimmer of hope......In addition, we also try to grasp a prescient glimpse of our future, to salvage a dream, to go back to normal and a desire to heal. It will be a long strife; in the end, it may take more than a vaccine, or another vacation and dining out to salve our wounds. We need a way to make sense out of this calamitous catastrophe. Then, poetry arrives. These poems are my diary to reflect the day-to-day headlines, debates, emotions....It is a tiny, humble reaction to the ongoing debacles. I chose an ancient form of villanelle to compose these poems, to parallel the plagues that have been with us over centuries of archaic human history. The majority of the poems follow similar structure and some or all rhyming schemes of villanelle.