Truth

This was written at the time of the first lockdown in March. Somehow still seemed relevant.

For once, it was true,
We could see as far as the eye could see.
Further than the all too familiar roofs, to the ridge
Beyond, and the one beyond that.
Like waves waiting their turn at the beach.

And the scent of spring flowers and
Cherry blossom was carried with ease,
On a gentle breeze and settled on our clothes.
Where it stayed until we reached our front door,
And the stale smell of a life spent indoors.

And we realised that all the things that we
Had said then, had been lies. And that how we
Had said them, had also been lies. To ourselves,
To our loved-ones, and to our friends.
Because we had not known life like we do now.

So who has been more unmasked, I ask?
Is it mother nature freed from the greasy man-made haze,
Her breathing unobstructed by our grime.
Or is it our lives and how we have chosen to
Pretend, pretend, pretend.


	

The Apple

If I said to you that a single, large red apple
Appeared on our sapling this year,
I would not blame you for being unimpressed.

But 12 months ago, the very same tree
Bore no fruit on its withered branches,
And its leaves curled in pain like arthitic fingers.

Unexpected, miraculous, by late summer
The apple was bursting with red-faced pride
On the low, sagging branch from which it hung.

Not even the autumn gale that finally shook
The apple from the tree for a passing
Hungry fox, could wipe our smiles away.

For isn’t this what nature does? Bring hope
Where there was none. And where there is hope
There is a tree that grows stronger by the day.

Simon Denegri

First draft Dec 20, published May 2021