I wrote this poem quite early on in lockdown for a poetry submission on the theme of nature.
It didn’t get picked, so I thought I’d share it on here. Waste not, want not!
This is a short piece about my experience of nature during a pandemic, when living in the centre of the city. I missed most of the blossom and the blooms of spring and summer; but I did get a glimpse from my window-side desk.
There’s a friend who chooses the holly tree
that sits before the boundaries of my station
at the bay window.
He is small
and I imagine reaching out and carefully cupping
his little scruffy belly
in my palms,
feeling his frantic heartbeat
against my solid pulse,
like airborne twigs
and eyes like polished seeds.
He’s not the most exotic,
nothing special, nothing bright.
No paradise with plumage,
blinding beauty taking flight.
A plain thing, frayed and common,
but he’s here, and so am I,
either side the window sill
one single story high.
It’s not much of a gateway,
my city-centre hide –
but this first-floor terraced flat
is now my bond with The Outside.
By Jo Fisher