Mother’s Day 2020

On Life’s veranda

We stood there, timid and unsure.

What would the next day bring?

On the canal, a swan,

Her cob and cygnets foraged

With an aimless plan.

The news from Italy and from Spain

Was not good.

The lorries drove their slow-paced row

Through familiar place names,

Bergamo and Lake Como

Towards the crematorium.

Medical teams too succumbed,

Idealistic and brave, remembered,

Fatalistic fighters of the unknown,

Without an answer in their ambush.

A doctor, masked and gowned beyond recognition

Strived against natures mutations,

A virus thriving in unsuspecting crowds.

The heathers were good this year:

Springwood White, Springwood Pink,

Myretoun Ruby with a tinge of frost,

Frozen droplets doomed to evaporation

Ready for extinction.

This is Mother’s Day, with a history

Of a childhood story of a long ago,

And the terrors too of their unknown,

The helpless huddles waiting for “The Fever”

And how their Typhus toll was told.

On the Hill the walkers strove,

In apprehensive distance on their Sunday stroll.

The graph was steep today,

Yet not peaked.

Was there worse to come?

It was breathless on the hillside where they struggled,

But they knew that it would peak,

And from the hill they crested

Perspective gained,

In the hope that lay

Beyond this unknown.

Close Menu