Hiatus

Horizon to horizon, clear blue,

save for one feathery vapour scar, 

the sky calls mutely, ‘Please, forget me not,

but let me be. Give me this quiet time

to rest and heal.’

Still a distant drone of cars

(but fewer than before)

jars (but just sporadically)

against the tranquil madrigal

of blackbirds, sparrows, collared doves.

They trill and chirrup, coo and my

fractured soul begins to knit and heal. 

The fevered, wheezing earth, so long

infected by the virus of our greed

may breathe a little easier a while;

a brief respite, not looked for but

much needed brings 

a ghost of healing on the breeze.