Covid Blues

It has been a long dreary winter, but my wife, Susan and I had our second AZ jabs today, for which we are very grateful. We are looking forward to meeting up with friends very soon. Here is a lighthearted poem which takes the opportunity to steal a Russian proverb I like for the penultimate line.

The view from my window, 
a ragged field of six acres, 
is no more connected to my life 
than Iceland or Patagonia.

It was brown through January,
radical green in March,
and at Easter primroses
broke cover beneath the hedges.
I won't assimilate any of it. 
It's incidental to my appetites:
'To live a life is not to cross a field',
to live a life is music, laughter, friends.

Published by davidcookpoet

I am a husband, father and grandfather. I retired from a busy working life as an adult psychiatrist in 2014. My interests are in literature, philosophy, modern jazz and horse racing. I might represent those four fields by Shakespeare, Kant, Charlie Parker and Lester Piggott. Like nearly all of us, I can identify a number of formative experiences, one of which was a psychotic episode in my first year as a psychiatrist. This reinforced an already established interest in mystical experience, and a sense of how little human beings know. My intellectual bugbear is reductive materialism, and I am surprised at the lack of moral imagination of those who promulgate such views. It seems to me they need to consider ,perhaps by exposure, just why totalitarianism is so horrific.

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