Lockdown days: A Poem
Way before dawn the robin sings, no other sound around. Imagine times gone by, decades before cars. Cornflower skies rise, echoes of blackbird song as light pervades.
An hour’s walk at quiet time, down to a shore where Orange-Tips and Holly-Blues dance by Charlock and the Blackberry hedge with its coils of bramble, not yet in flower.
City surrounds, death lurks in bubbles on surfaces or held in the air between us, as we pass on paths in a two metre dance like zombies in a film, over the bridge with our heads in the air.
Back to the house to eagerly wait for lettuce seeds to spring through earth by the window with a distant view of neon fields, shining in sunshine and showers, glow of buttercups.
A seat out back in a north-facing yard even gets rays this time of year, simple bliss, shimmering breeze shakes toad-flax growing from high walls, the occasional bee weighs down the heart shaped leaves.
By my feet a fern unfurls. I wonder where the world will be when cherry trees leaves are falling like flames to the ground.
Twilight now, two bats flicker in the West, sky’s light all pink and grey sinks another noiseless day then Venus rises, fitting the silence.
Watch Katie’s video below or Return to Diaries
Matthew talks of how life in Lockdown has affected him, his family and his work with Fotonow in the latest of Raman’s Covid Letters.
Anita reflects upon the early morning queues and “open” signs on her journey to work as Plymouth continues to emerge from Lockdown.
“Six months with years of events crammed in”