Under the elderly limbs of the neglected
once proud sentries lining thoroughfare
their bent shapes overgrown with ivy
a guard once honoured lines our outbreak.
Our daily jaunt on the dark surface
beneath the blue expanse guarding
the heavens and cosmic unknown
footsteps our thunder break near silence.
At the crossroads there is a storm
of clay thrown up from the earth
tillage clouds drifting in the wake
of potato planting preparations.
A regular dressed in high visibility
vest of safety staying 2 metres clear
a familiar nod to the ones unfamiliar
greetings to the five o’clock ambulator.
Two bodies in constant conversation
arms wrapped and lives entwined
growing closer with each ten thousand
stepping together in our isolation radius.