The streets are deserted Humans hidden locked down. Only essential Key-workers able to roam a to b Delivering Serving us Protecting Caring Saving us from the monsters outside our doors... the invisible ones who do the most harm. There is a battle being fought daily in this, The Great Corona War. Millions have perished globally tens of thousands closer to home... and the Leaders don’t act quick enough to close borders contain limit the movement of people... but when they do it falls on deaf ears. Because of a few lockdown is extended Because of a few more people die! Because of a few... Protective equipment is lacking or non-existent in some cases The frontline exposed succumbing to the Pandemic... and the Leaders don’t act quick enough to provide protection supply wanting herd immunity to solve their problems as each day the death toll rises...
The streets were deserted for a while anyway. People creep out to exercise to shop for food forgetting to distance as much as they should... the weather is so lovely enticing the foolish to venture further than they should spreading the disease... I, however, sit on the step watch the ants as they crawl by busily going about their business providing for their kin. I look at the beauty of the flowers and the Bee’s pollinating creating life... I close my eyes turn my face to the sun and sky and I listen to the calm barely a car to be heard... the absence of the hustle and bustle of people... I sit on the step and listen to the Blackbirds sing.
Louise A. Hart
The Blackbirds Sing is a reflective piece of free-form prose, trying to convey the inner despair and anxiety that I was feeling due to the Corona-Virus situation, about the inability of many from my neighbourhood to actually follow the social distancing rules and lock-down procedures, and my anger at the Government for their lack of prompt action or supplying of PPE. This, followed by the coping mechanism of watching and listening to nature, finding peace within it, and realising that we as a species are unnecessary…
Louise A. Hart
Louise is 44, is married and a Mum to one marvellous autistic child. Last year was one of major change, moving her child and herself to Morecambe, marrying her husband and became a Partner in a business. She has enjoyed writing poetry since an early age. In her mid 30’s she joined the Lancashire Dead Good Poets in Blackpool, at which point it really took off. She wrote poetry blog posts for them (under her previous name Louise Barklam), has had 4 poems published in anthologies thus far, and likes to perform regularly at Open-Mic nights.»