Take this year with its weird absurdities,
In its death and in its life,
In its moments of despair, its lockdown,
Broken dreams, false starts, and dead ends,
Take it, curl it round into a ball of light,
And kick it high into the air and shout,”I did it!”
Take the nightingale that sang for us,
One heady evening in the garden full of absent friends,
Take that and plant it in the soil of hope and watch it grow.
Take the silence as a cup of gold,
Put that cup of silence to your lips and drink softly.
For years come and years go;
Never again will that walk through bluebell woods
Be so good, so rich, so strong in your memory
And that wren whose tinkling song would not abate
Be so intoxicating to your soul.
Take that year which gave you hopes and dreams
And time to make those woven thoughts come true.
Take those queues for food a moment of reflexion,
That you did not need the things that you were queuing for.
Take Mignonette, Chicory, and Meadow Cranesbills,
Paint them with Soapwort and Purple Vetch,
Into a canvas of memory,
And know that what makes us, made us so
And what makes us small will also makes us grow.
Caroline Baldock ©2020