The first day,

of the end of days

 

they gathered

in the park

 

as if

 

it was

a holiday.

 

Picnics

underneath

 

the trees,

& the children

 

roamed free.

 

That night

the pubs partied

 

while our hidden

neighbours

 

coughed

in self-made

 

stockade.

 

The Minister

grave & jittery

 

doctors

blogged

 

on how this

monster

 

crept up

on us.

 

We pondered

on the truth:

 

an alien

intervention?

 

Myself I saw

the planets

 

sweep away

an old order.

 

My children

scattered,

 

old lovers

barked,

 

eyes distraught

minds unhinged.

 

That was the

first day:

 

my pen

immobile,

 

my hands

scrubbed.

 

Now, the sun

mocks us,

 

bright &

beautiful

 

in its cosmic

cradle.

 

The birds’ nest,

it is spring.

 

Nothings told

my cherry tree

 

to delay its

fragile buds

 

& we

may become

 

wiser

with this.

 

The earth

has no need

 

of our ways,

 

we’ll see

spring

 

give way

 

to summer days;

if we are calm

 

enough,

to live this.

 

 

 

 

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