It's been seven weeks of lockdown and a series of poems is emerging as I take my solitary walks and ponder on the emptiness of human activity and the abundance of nature in these slowed-down times.
This is a poem I wrote today.
I shrug against the exposure of cold crossing the empty village green.
Night-fallen blossom litters the ground.
A hush of bluebells slopes behind the off-limits car park.
I follow the paths trodden by decades of dog walkers.
Silver-green sea-grass shifts in the off-shore breeze.
I catch sight of solitary walkers down on the distant crescent of sand, breathe in the rhythm of the incoming waves.
Bird-song fills the sun warmed sand-dune shrubbery.
A friendly dog nudges at my knees as if nothing has changed.