We had walked this road before smell of fresh turned earth grind of machines making furrows the brown fields freshly lined our daily rotation of the local roads within the radius of regulation safe distance from risk of infection R number noted daily cases tossing the terminology of epidimology we practiced new vocabulary. The Pandemic made the weeks lenghten daylight lingered longer for days fields of green painted with impression golden optimism of floral climax our nostrils filled with nectar scents rape tall enough to hide a child lost in nowhere land of home schooling dizzy confusion of misunderstanding home work confusion time table refusal home working, no conclusion. The fields of gold lost their high season glow tarnished from apian pollination brown seeds well oiled and leaves to wither the harvesters cleared to stubble potato fields turned to reveal the subterranean gifts gathered by hungry machines returning to life leaves became autumnal sludge grassy green promises summer grain in the shadow of equinox the numbers resurgent and we walk the lockdown loop again. Ciaran Burke
