London town, 19th March 2020.
Early evening, streets abnormally empty.
Emanating lockdown vibes
voluntary or ‘strongly advised’.
the “in” thing
Justified anger at anything else.
Office bits stuffed hastily
in black plastic bags and the taxi home.
A timely turn of the head
Gets me a glimpse a woman –
Yellowing unkempt hair
borders a beleaguered face.
Her body a full-length shroud of
Charcoal-grey overcoat, buttoned to burst.
Deportment dog-tired but determined,
She stands on Burleigh Street.
Breaks chunks off a crusty loaf
of yesterday’s bread, dropping them
In these panic-buying endemic days
She feeds the pigeons.