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.