The Mind cupboard

                                                                                        Swallows welcome return

Dear Reader,

On Monday I think we start the fourth week in lockdown.  For Francis and I it really hasn't been boring or bad at all, but I certainly don't want to sound smug about this.  Obviously for those of us lucky enough to have a garden to sit in, or work in,  a house to live in and wonderful neighbours who do our shopping for us we are much blessed.  If on the other hand you live in a high rise block and have small children to care for and amuse, lockdown must be terrible and I salute and honour you for your fortitude.

One of my daughters works for the NHS and one is a carer.  I do worry about both of them as obviously the coronavirus is lurking where they work.  But someone has to do it they both say and I do feel very proud of them.

I am not sleeping at all well at the moment because I have anxiety dreams every night.  I get up and make myself a cup of tea and sometimes listen to the radio.  World service is good and interesting.
 But I do hope the government doesn't decide to relax the rules that we now all know about distancing and shopping for essentials.  We must be certain that the virus has petered out properly before we can go back to normal.

                                                                                   *                                                                                                  

I am putting 'The Mind Cupboard' poem back on the blog this week.  It seems to be one that touches the heart at this moment of our lives, so I thought I would give it another run.  I am sorry if this is not the case for you.

*  

The Mind cupboard

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

I will chase and catch the wasps, 

relieve the of their stings. 

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 *

Very best wishes, Patricia