Lockdown

We cannot even walk along the beach At night, the free sky mocks us. As does the tide, untrammelled,a healthy pulse, And the waves, still pummelling the cliff strong shore. It is summer, the time of flowers, ice cream and kites Where are the streams of holidaymakers? Where are the tourists unpacking in hotels? Windfarms turn and sigh like ghastly scarecrows We lie in the dark, having worn our carpets thin On the daily treadmill. Normalcy is only a mirage. We are seashells, high and dry above the surging sea