The poem is a small snapshot of a group of artist friends staying connected through screens. The title suggests an "open studio" gathering, and the speaker opens with a calm reassurance: "Life goes on. Really." That "Really" sounds like someone convincing herself as much as the reader. The group keeps "vigil" together, a word that hints at waiting or worry, though the poem never says what they are waiting for.
Then the details come in, warm and ordinary. David mutes himself "to tune," Kathy C's computer is down but everyone trusts she is still "making art," and Kathy H meets Wanda in person, in a parking lot. The funny last line, that Wanda is "three-dimensional," lands with relief and humor. After so much time seeing each other flattened on a screen, a real body feels almost surprising. The mood is gentle, wry, and quietly tender: loneliness is present, but friendship and creative work carry the group through.