The Switchers. Poetry by AQ

We make
A monumental effort
The makers
not takers
The weavers
Pull up the sleevers

Put on my gloves, my hat,
my scarf,
to fill my handbag with lovely sensible things
To try to love
to try to please
to serve

we deserve to work, to rest, to play
the green-eyed covid will sway
like a pendulum or a
metronome
a clock ticking
fingers clicking

In the meantime
pens scrawling
pencils drawing
babies bawling
mothers calling
and clean laundered sheets

Yes, indeed
Oh yes, indeedy
Mother is calling us
Mother brown and green and grassy

And
What do we need?
a use?
or a noose?
A strawberry mousse?
Or a bloody good cry/laugh
What’s the differ?

Serenity before the warm,
brave new iorelande
Or means gold
Land and lend a hand brother
Who cares?
About the child
About the old man woman or beast without a bone
Who cares about the great wheel,
The wheelers and dealers the bribers and forgers
the cogs ad spanner
the axel
the rose
the gold rose
the past is present
the future is past
the now is all
as the old bard said
readiness is all