How sorely missed
Yesterday the Marin blew, hard and howling
damp from the sea
in a white sky, no blue no sun
only the roar and the hurl
and windless now the day is bleached, emptied
the silence thick and drumming
the oddest day
emptied, drained like a swamp
no frogs
all colour and contact, warmth and chatter, interaction
silent now and stilled...
...all busy-ness on planes and trains
motorways and rush hours, crush and crowd
the soup and swirl of germs in droplets
multiplying, invisible and deadly
Covid-19, bred on bats or pangolin
quixotic possibility
come creeping, Assyrians as wolf on the fold
death knell, tolled and tolled
this year’s winning plague
culling the herd.
How sorely missed the touch, the kiss
double or treble, Gallic greeting
locked down in bunker, hunkered with the rolling
tolling, terrifying news
we knit and sew and weed and trim
painting and poetry solitary, not forbidden
and interact by telephone, send virtual hugs
battle bugs, with soap and hand wash, sanitisers
Observe the birds, unfazed
busy for spring
song of the blackbird, glorious
there’s budding unseasonal, globally warmed
but heedless, responding to signals
they’re doing their thing
busy for spring
only our world turned upside down
our getting and spending cribbed and confined
all colour and contact, warmth and chatter, interaction
silent now and stilled.
And now we know
of course it’s so
how sorely missed, the touch the kiss
the dear and daily contact, real
not virtual.
19th March 2020 Hounoux
Yesterday the Marin blew, hard and howling
damp from the sea
in a white sky, no blue no sun
only the roar and the hurl
and windless now the day is bleached, emptied
the silence thick and drumming
the oddest day
emptied, drained like a swamp
no frogs
all colour and contact, warmth and chatter, interaction
silent now and stilled...
...all busy-ness on planes and trains
motorways and rush hours, crush and crowd
the soup and swirl of germs in droplets
multiplying, invisible and deadly
Covid-19, bred on bats or pangolin
quixotic possibility
come creeping, Assyrians as wolf on the fold
death knell, tolled and tolled
this year’s winning plague
culling the herd.
How sorely missed the touch, the kiss
double or treble, Gallic greeting
locked down in bunker, hunkered with the rolling
tolling, terrifying news
we knit and sew and weed and trim
painting and poetry solitary, not forbidden
and interact by telephone, send virtual hugs
battle bugs, with soap and hand wash, sanitisers
Observe the birds, unfazed
busy for spring
song of the blackbird, glorious
there’s budding unseasonal, globally warmed
but heedless, responding to signals
they’re doing their thing
busy for spring
only our world turned upside down
our getting and spending cribbed and confined
all colour and contact, warmth and chatter, interaction
silent now and stilled.
And now we know
of course it’s so
how sorely missed, the touch the kiss
the dear and daily contact, real
not virtual.
19th March 2020 Hounoux
This one set me off crying Sally. The emotion feels so shared and because I am lucky enough to Imagine standing outside the green room I have such a strong sense of being at yours and goodness yes the sadness of separation. Love how the atmosphere comes through in the poem. I have noticed a change here with quieter roads, empty buses, fewer people out. It resonates so much, it unlocks the emotion of the impossible to make sense. Xx
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