Everyone needs to read this excellent poem by the lovely Sarah Connor!
He’s not drinking milk
each morning. Milk’s the thing
that sends us out into the town,
and shopping’s not a pleasure now.
I plan our meals, now, carefully,
avoiding waste. We check the list
before we buy. We’re not so frivolous.
Our pleasures shrink. The sky is blue –
unmarked by plane tracks. That’s
a miracle. We journey out
on foot: the lane is longer
now. Distance is measured
in our footsteps. I have never seen
so many primroses.
I caught the scent of violets and we
spent several minutes looking for
wild orchids, on the lane
that’s usually a conduit,
just the way that takes us
to the road. We bomb along it,
hurrying – we’re always late.
Suddenly, there’s nothing
to be late for. It’s all here –
work, play, music, words.
The home we built
out of the things we loved – that
painting that you…
View original post 166 more words