Day 1: Not a soul to be seen

Not a soul to be seen

Except for Hare, Blackbird,

Deer, Wren




Many birds, tits great and blue

Chiff chaff

Green woodpecker and mallards laugh

And I breathe into the rhythm of my steps



Not a sound of machines anymore

Not a trail in the sky

I am alone in a returned world

That has been waiting


Squeezed out to the edges of dawn and dusk

Until now



Not a membrane betweeen me and

What is out there anymore,

My ears attune to bird song

A rustle in the still-frozen undergrowth

The thud of a fleeting deer’s footfall

The pad of my own feet

Touching the earth



Not a natural sound

Throbbing grows

Somewhere out there

An out-of-place van appears

Bright orange van of a scaffolding man

I cry a little sob of pity

Go home, my eyes plead

He drives past me



Not her

I come home to hear a friend has it

Caught it on pilgrimage

Now she endures her pain and fear and has no breath nor strength

A ripple of pity

Widening into love

Flows through me into her

And all of us



Her once strong legs are mine today

What do we love this world for?

Unless for the days when the magic

We love

Turns on us and

Challenges us to breathe in


Stay with us

Are souls are being seen

Don’t go away

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