Lull by Ross Thompson, written in Bangor during 2020 Lockdown
Before,
time was precious, never enough to savour
the sweetness
of days without landmines or barricades,
the all too fleeting
glimpses of God rays and beads of glass winking
on beams of grass,
the unwitting squandering of the gift
of breathing,
the not yet knowing of grieving for what
once was
and what can no longer be, the distance
between sleep
and dream never too deep, the price of a life
so cheap
we could not realise its worth but now,
here,
with perfect hindsight and the clearest of glass,
we see each day,
less blurry now, as it slowly edges past.