A time before: of reality to come

by fields of Spring daffodils
boys leaped with the ease of a stotting Gazelle
and girls pirouetted with the grace, of a Flamingo at rest

at least our memories think they did
instead, we – of a generation that spent a year
locked up and masked-up – suffocating, in our bewildered state

watching, from our windowsill of trepidation
Pigeon-like flinching at every sneeze

as leaves breathed, freedom’s forgotten scenes – unperturbed
by that plague of interference: we named ourselves

soon, our daily refreshed screens promise
it will all be over and we too, can bravely conquer
that untamed pavement

and preen, all that overgrown nature
wading deep into its unruffled centre
to once more tattoo our legacy

as mother nature’s: unconquerable virus