After the Storm

After the Storm

(A Poem for the Post-Trump and Post-Covid Era) 

Calm the waters back into their banks.

Follow a few good women.

For it is they, in times of trouble,

who innately know what first needs mending.

Fell the falling trees and collect their branches.

Repair the lanes and quiet the animals.

Gather the children and begin to tell them stories again.

Be restored by the sky’s electric clear-blue air.

Then share that breath with both friend and foe.

For it is nature, both human and otherwise, 

That will begin to make things right again.

© Kip Jones 2020

Tiny Covid Moments

“Like endless rain into a paper cup”. 

Went to the bins with a big bag of leaves. On the way, a young man came towards the bins with a bucket of leaves as well. Something in common. We chatted about leaves. And gutters, and such things.It was such a treat to engage in conversation, particularly with a stranger. I introduced myself and offered my hand. He shook mine and said, "I'm Adam". 

I realised later that we had sinned, crossed into a no-go area without protecting ourselves in our excitement for communion. 

Life is never easy on this lonely planet.

Ocado delivery came in the twilight last night. A tall young delivery guy walked up to my door, his hand outstretched, and my missing silver chain bracelet in his hand.

"Did you lose this?" he said.

 

"Yes! Thank you! Where was it?"

 

"I noticed it in the pebbles on the dark path to your door".

I thanked him again. He was Estonian and quite handsome. 

Should I invite him in?

No, but this is the way life should be. Not furtive hook-ups on phone apps.