PRIMAVERA (12th-14th March, 2020)
Bored cattle swish their slack tails at a customary breeze.
The aisles of Centra are well stocked with light bulbs as it happens.
It’s a puddle and wind black Thursday, checked by hit and run March rays.
The stars are thermonuclear blasts that send out light in packets.
The fatalities in Italy have been climbing day by day.
There’s a sign to sanitize your hands outside the dentist’s door.
Brendan doles out books and chat, now wearing see through gloves.
The stars’ explosions send out light and heat in power packets.
A bulky parcel protrudes through my letterbox like a tongue.
The rain jazz drums its deluge on the skylight up above.
Slow cars come and go, snug insulation from the cold.
The stars, huge thermonuclear blasts, send energy in packets.
The lights go out, just briefly, in a cafe in Dungarvan.
The religious gather outside to exalt their virgin muse.
My bus meanders briskly to its sleepy destination as
the stars send thermonuclear blasts of light and heat in packets.
……………………………………………….
Alan Murphy is the writer and illustrator of four collections of poetry for young readers. Dublin-born, he currently lives in Lismore, county Waterford. In recent years two of his books have been shortlisted for the CAP awards for independent authors. He has also been featured in children’s poetry anthologies in the UK and America, and has published poetry for adults and visual art with a number of journals. His latest book is All Gums Blazing. http://www.avantcardpublications.com
I like this, Alan. So unlike a lot of your other stuff (which I also like). I feel like I’m riding beside you on the bus. I like the stars sending out the packets, just showing up from time to time, as stars do.
Nice job. Sorry it took so long for me to read it.
Just read this for the first time now Alan. I agree with Sherry’s comment. I feel I am riding on the bus seeing it through your eyes quite early on in the pandemic before the lockdown. Very well described. Marie