After a day full of tears yesterday, I got up and wrote a poem just-like-that this morning. It felt good. Half way through writing, my husband shouted from upstairs (where he is self-isolating with COVID) that there was a rainbow out the back. That changed the direction of my poem, and hopefully my week/year (yeah, I know it’s the last day!). 

This long, cruel winter
not cleansingly cold
just endlessly damp
mouldy
breeding ground for disease

our long-awaited reset
has not come

while we wait
we wither

unblooming in darkened rooms
pinched out by rules
a new viral lexicon blunts 
ambitions which have flown
with sickly birds
that sometimes drop from the sky, dead

I am dry, having cried
all my tears

**

I see a double rainbow!

A sign of hope? (I have been asking)

and all the gulls who swoop and
normally call like vultures
are rendered silent

perhaps they are making wishes too

I breathe the scene in
with fluttering heart

Today, I will go fossil-hunting.