![\"\"](\"https:\/\/d2wipdjmobk1g8.cloudfront.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2020\/04\/09091947\/birds-1.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I felt the sun\u2019s \u2018warm touch\u2019 on my left shoulder<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Outside, whilst working…was a bonus now I\u2019m older!<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n It served to remind me of jewels, still to unfold,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n The longer days, the relief from the cold…<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n And, yet, daffodils nodded their yellow \u2018Hello\u2019<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Mauve crocuses nestled beneath branches below.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n I beamed, as I walked on this rain-sodden earth<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Revealing its bounty, declaring its worth.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Harvesting leeks and rhubarb, and broccoli and sorrel<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Stooping down, saw blackbird scutter round by the laurel.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Red robin perched above on a twig, stretched out his wing,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Long-tailed tits gathered and flitted, enjoying their sing,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n On turning, to glance down amongst parsley and sage,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Saw frogspawn clear-glistening behind the wire cage,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n And seeing the pond, Iris and Marsh Marigold mingled<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Brought a flush to my face, my gloved-fingers fair tingled!<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n I smiled, as I heard the \u2018wreckers\u2019 break glass,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n As this <\/em>patch of land maintained its own Class,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Undisturbed, full of life, just pure Heaven…<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Counted spent summers here, at least ten years, plus seven!<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n All this planning and building, the soil and its treasure…<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n The hours of watching and listening, the joys and the pleasure,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n The fruitfulness and harvest, delight and surprise,<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Were all there unfolding, in front of my eyes.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Silent Horror, April 9th<\/sup> Leading up to Easter 2020<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n Doorstep sitting,<\/span><\/p>\n Mint tea sipping,<\/span><\/p>\n D-I-Y-ers,<\/span><\/p>\n Buzzing wires,<\/span><\/p>\n Children playing,<\/span><\/p>\n Indoor staying,<\/span><\/p>\n Sunshine loving,<\/span><\/p>\n Bellflower budding,<\/span><\/p>\n Jack and Jill?<\/span><\/p>\n World stood still,<\/span><\/p>\n Neighbours chatting,<\/span><\/p>\n No dog patting,<\/span><\/p>\n Wise words saging,<\/span><\/p>\n Distance gauging,<\/span><\/p>\n Wary glances,<\/span><\/p>\n No advances,<\/span><\/p>\n Stray tunes,<\/span><\/p>\n Full moon\u2019s<\/span><\/p>\n Energy rises,<\/span><\/p>\n Brewing crisis,<\/span><\/p>\n All bad news,<\/span><\/p>\n Much to lose…<\/span><\/p>\n Young child screams,<\/span><\/p>\n Delight, it seems!<\/span><\/p>\n Each day same,<\/span><\/p>\n Waiting game.<\/span><\/p>\n Another dies,<\/span><\/p>\n Baby cries.<\/span><\/p>\n Grandad gone,<\/span><\/p>\n Life?… must go on.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Times of Tribulation – April 1st <\/sup>– All Fools\u2019 Day, 2020<\/u><\/strong> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u2018Fool\u2019 ventured down to the Prom that day<\/span><\/p>\n Took chosen, odd path, chanced route, least trod,<\/span><\/p>\n Vain trampling, awry, o\u2019er matted green sod,<\/span><\/p>\n Clambered high bluff, breathless; traversed bleak tops,<\/span><\/p>\n Below, vast-spreading river…above, lean lonely copse,<\/span><\/p>\n \u2018Tis \u201cThirty-two days syn March began\u201d,<\/span><\/p>\n Familiar, stark words for a Chaucer-fuelled fan?<\/span><\/p>\n More than a month, of sly, creeping terror,<\/span><\/p>\n Unrushed in response, sprayed droplets in error.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe should have distanced ourselves, from the start!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Instead, we are only just learning \u2018our part\u2019…<\/span><\/p>\n Frail Earth breathed still, strange, quiet, so unreal,<\/span><\/p>\n Beyond, \u201cMother Mountain\u201d, her dark gifts conceal?<\/span><\/p>\n Warm zephyrs connecting \u2018like souls\u2019, to far lands,<\/span><\/p>\n Sending songs of condolement, \u2018cross gasping, cracked sands.<\/span><\/p>\n Now, cocooned in our spaces, with birdsong for clocks,<\/span><\/p>\n We network with loved ones…receive food in a box!!!<\/span><\/p>\n \u2018Nil hugs\u2019 and no kisses, no quests…for a while,<\/span><\/p>\n Clan connect, knowing glances, solo stranger\u2019s scared smile,<\/span><\/p>\n Bright rainbow as symbol, for lives held in treasure<\/span><\/p>\n Propped-up \u2018Teddies\u2019 in windows, augmenting our pleasure,<\/span><\/p>\n Lark thought, that this April was \u201cSurely no joke?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Blind \u2018Hope\u2019 channeled daily, uniting, safe-calling-together, strayed folk.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I felt the sun\u2019s \u2018warm touch\u2019 on my left shoulder Outside, whilst working…was a bonus now I\u2019m older! It served to remind me of jewels, still to unfold, The longer days, the relief from the cold… And, yet, daffodils nodded their yellow \u2018Hello\u2019 Mauve crocuses nestled beneath branches below. I beamed, as I walked on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2234,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_caption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_nocaption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_hide":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3,9],"tags":[506],"class_list":["post-6521","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poety","category-the-arts","tag-ianthe-pickel"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nIanthe Pickles
\n<\/em><\/span>Lives in Liverpool
\n<\/em>Worked for 37 years as a full-time Primary and later Secondary\/Special School teacher and college tutor.
\n<\/em>Writing (especially poetry) was often a release during emotional and turbulent times in the 1980s working in an area of severe deprivation and unemployment in Liverpool.\u00a0<\/em><\/h6>\nWhen life gets out of control, writing can often help it make sense.<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/h6>\n
<\/h6>\n