Plague Year
Some will pass away
Some see the skull beneath
The skin,
Others will feel,
Living or dying,
A certain stillness
In the air,
A certain absence of movement,
Except perhaps,
When looking out of a window,
Leaves swaying gently
In the breeze
Or a blaze of colour
From early spring flowers,
But always a certain silence,
Crisp and solid like air;
And sunshine
Wrapping itself around
Contours of buildings
Revealing a geometry
Never noticed before,
All done quietly;
A seen but not heard televised
Ballet of medics on a ward
In a bubble world of ventilator machines,
Or silent images of trucks
On empty streets carrying coffins to
A crematorium.
The advantage of a plague year:
It never passes with a scream but in a whisper.
Poet's Note:
I’d like to take the opportunity to thank all those who are playing their part in the emergency ( whether in an active or passive sense ) but especially all those in the health sector many of whom are in the front line and therefore most at risk and also a big thanks to all those involved in providing essential services without which we would all be in a bigger mess than we are already. A big round of applause for all these folks please. Desi Gall
Copyright © Desi Gall | Year Posted 2020
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