COVID 19 and the BLACKBIRD
Chicks in a nest, in springtime, Squawking for food
Beaks pointed vertical, the mother, a scavenger,
Who regurgitates, on demand. ………
This is a work-in-progress in England, any time, over the past few thousand years. ……
Take another route to the same destination:
Some writing is not about something, it is something, in itself:
A frightened elfin expression of how first we feel and then, how indubitably, we fail. ……..
Under the shadow of the shelter of trees
We listen to the birds, singing at their ease in this mild breeze.
Of late spring. Later, we lizzzen to these beeez
Who scrape a living in the unacred blue. …..
This will do for me and will do wonders too
As we battled through this solstice of a late December eve.
So unhinged as it is unleavened! …..
Some lives just drift into this or that conclusion (Others just quit)
And these endless queues for 'provisions' by the worried well
Thatcher's generation - the devil take the hindmost all that....
Mix the rhymes with the reasons. ……..the plurality of a nameless fear
Which we. occasionally, sniff as we go about our ordinary lives. ……
O! It’s heaven when it rains, a mother’s refrain is always the same
As love of life is an uneven bliss under this unvaulted sky
Where you and I unstring the pearls
Of all the years
Then drop them plonk into this chain of words......