After the rains return, and children are back
in school, their days circumscribed, filled
with people, vivid with stuff;
and they’ve stopped playing slip-and-slide
or in the mud kitchen, or just
endlessly bouncing on trampolines, will
the arrival of eleven chicks still enthrall?
New life works its magic, especially
on the young, but more so now.
After the rains return, and blue is scarred again
with the tracks of jumbos,
and birdsong and bleating is fugged
a little more by cars;
yet we can hug, go to the pub, get
our roots done, dive into buzz and bustle,
nine-to-five, the full diary, will
we thrill as business beckons?
When ‘new normal’ is bagged and boxed
for the bin men, will we shrug it off,
After the rains return, and news is
other than this plague, will
we submit to gaining our liberty,
while losing our balance? When we stop
waiting for the when and how, stop
clapping, will we chat and gossip
at the gates,
but waste less,
after the rains return?