I wake up
and the world has changed
there’s a strange quality to the light,
lurid colours of the sky creating
anthropomorphic shapes in clouds,
warnings weaved through vapour trails
like a painting by Roerich
I hear the blackbird
he’s singing a new song,
displaced by the cunning air
in an odd synchronicity
which cavorts with my mind,
a nameless advent
a voice in my head
says to ignore the news,
make a lover of the duvet
and I resolve play Vaughan Williams
around the clock,
cry out my heart to his glorious fifth
till that sweet second
to midnight comes
copyright Francis Barker 2020
