Feeling the gentle heat of the stretching days adjusting to the season
the silver edge of the grey cloud a map of unchartered worlds
that move across our isolation while we fight the mental malaise.
The high droning constant whirl and the odour of the fallen grass
the machinery of lawn care a reminder of the outside world
beyond the viburnum boundary to the viral
threat.
The destroyer of the normal enforcing society to readjust
poisoning our minds with self-reflection of distorted mirrors
bending our realities of the present into grotesque future fears.
And the loop of lawn care comes closer feeling it’s vibrations
the bird in the bush sings a song and all that is will be past
after the clock changes and nights are but breaks in the day.
We may reflect on the world and see a new picture
framed not in gold but a wealth unmeasured in currency
we will return maybe changed, to eat and drink with old friends.
Ciaran Burke
