Corona surreal or COVID-19, has closed
My old workplace and emptied the streets,
People like statues, 2 metres apart, stand
Waiting in line, for permission to shop.
The birds haven’t noticed, too much work
To do, feathering their nests and feeding
Their brood. Quiet roads a blessing, no
Cars racing by, fat worms aplenty, beetles,
The garden’s oblivious to the woes at our
Door, it waits for a trowel, a spade, or a
Hoe, with the sun on your back, and a
Robin nearby, what better way is there,
Of passing the time?
© Joseph G Dawson
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