A Pot of Tea
A word in your shell-like
colour me purple for
shades of grey are not for
cattle, light and dark are
more than a number, our
eyes able to behold a
myriad spectrum.
I saw light play with
humour, with empathy,
with stories of cameras
capturing skies suffused
with desert hues of pinks
to blues to purple,
cityscapes flashing lights
moody, moving black and
whites reflecting absences
and arrivals always with
the light.
There is a community
together, people power
protesting and protecting
once upon a time. Now is
another isolated, lives
hidden, opinions not
polled, voices muffled in
today’s strange clime.
Feet forward I find
tokens for foundlings
who floundered and
flourished, though no
gallery encounters.
But(t) a conversation on
entrepreneurship, risks
in recession, launches
before lockdown, and
share hope in a virtual
pot of Yorkshire tea.
A word to the wise,
Upend your empty
teacup, see the shapes
in the leaves foretell
a vision a hundred
years hence of an
earth replenished,
revived, renewed
and communities
connected.
© Irene Lofthouse Oct 2020
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