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
