Trespassing
At 6am I begin my escape
to avoid seeing and being seen.
Hissing at the dog for quiet compliance,
I open the door to welcome emptiness.
We walk to a newly compressed space
into which we are all meant to fit
whilst keeping our distance.
But I am breaking free,
rebirthed through a bramble slit
into a forbidden land of trees,
to trespass under a pale nursery sky
of baby blue and fluffy pink.
The world’s edge glows
molten copper, a half medallion
bringing promise that the old is ash
and the new is kiln fresh, friable.
The wild garlic murmurs
that the paths are best untrodden,
and the birds shout all at once
that the world is theirs.
Biography
Jane is living in lockdown in Bristol with her husband and their adult son who has severe learning difficulties. Jane have been writing poetry regularly since January, having had a 27 year break in which she learnt a lot but failed to take notes.