A dear diary poem started on Tuesday 24th March 2020
reminder of the times we are now living in.
Poets flame flickers at this inevitable hour,
scattered pages of endless burbling; if this
was nature...imagine no nectar as bees flit
from flower to flower.
Gone busy shoppers eyeing black Friday bargains,
grabbing before consumer tide goes out, now they
sail on sunsets and sunrises. Watch the hoarders...
compare them to Greek myths, those old statues,
like frail chapped winter lips, Hesperides guard
the garden, our golden apples dwindling down
aisle after empty aisle, each shelf retired with an
epitaph of:- Here used to lie what you greatly desired.
In towns foxes cry out; “Where have all the humans gone?”
With bushy tails they raise their brows, gutted not to find
usual scraps, a morsel to depend on, now just an endless
row of desolate streets and vanishing mortals,
step into no daily reality as industry's crippled,
only silence keeps safe this presence traced,
a noiseless splendour of common sense until
we awaken to bear that memory.