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What I mean, I suppose, is that this long infatuation is now a marriage — as demanding and exasperating at times as any marriage, and with long caesuras of drudgery.

This creates a medial caesura, splitting the line into two more or less equal halves, a technique famously employed a thousand years ago by the unknown poet who set “Beowulf” to the page.

If the pandemic had a musical score, that trick ending might be a caesura, shown by two parallel diagonal lines: railroad tracks, only we ran out of rail.

Among those of a more pessimistic bent, suspicions that somewhere deep in the bowels of Westminster a press release was being composed urging people not to read anything into this cupric caesura.

That is a semicolon from the heavens, you know, it’s like the most amazing caesura, to say these two things that are simultaneous and true.