Through the Mists of 2021

High upon the Downs I stand, Across the vale below I gaze; So peaceful, tranquil - quiet it is - As now I look beyond the haze. I glimpse a ruddy glow above, An eerie sight that fills with dread; So silent ‘tis; so strange my mood, As down the hill I fearfully tread. I pass a field with crop destroyed, Rotting fast - its fate is sealed; And here the farm – ‘tis empty now - ‘Tis ruined – as is the corn in the field. But then – a shock - a noise so sudden! Raucous cries resound on high; Angry rooks now circle above, Destined just to terrify. And to the village I warily trudge, Once so pretty, now so dark; A dog I hear now howl and screech - In fear of death? so fierce a bark! Streets so lifeless - paths so drab, Shops so empty - shelves so bare; Time’s so sad - grief so real, Life’s so cheerless - such despair. On a bench with head in hands, So sad am I – but this I vow: A year of hell that’s plagued us all, Will do naught to blight me now. 1 October 2021 This poem is a rather sharp commentary on the state of life and economy in the UK in 2021, brought about by both Brexit and COVID. Note – The ‘Downs’ are chalklands in Southern and Eastern England. In Lincolnshire and East Yorkshire they also occur where they are known as the ‘Wolds’. They are characterised by their rounded hills (rising to about 200 metres), dry valleys and steep scarp faces.