Out On The Lawn

 

Closing her eyes at night she can easily see 
    the wide open vistas of home, easily feel
         the cool upland airs, or recall the intimacy
     with mother and sisters – and the old ones too –
         talking over local tea, cinnamon spiced.

Here in a distant land the ways of living
     are unsettling. Her little flat. Her strict hours
          in uniform among their sick and elderly,
     helping them eat, wash, all those intimate things.
         And always the bell, insistent, shrieking.

One of her charges has begged to be out in the sun
     and she, although it’s her lunch, wheels him to sit
          by the last few roses. She gathers chestnuts
     to put in his hands, asks about children’s games,
         and leans closer – with golden wings – to listen.

 

© John Looker 2016

From time to time I write another poem on the theme of The Human Hive, that’s to say looking at life through work. This is a recent example.

The Human Hive, published via Amazon by Bennison Books, now costs £2.80 or $5.40