Beachen sand, coastal gravel Heave and spew with every wave Are fixed above my head Banks of sand, clots of gravel Two million-years adrift Are rolling at my feet Same old, same old Dunwich Cliff, Dunwich Beach: The poetry of sediment remains Tim
Some we lost, for some it was days, for some it simply never went away. Three years of changes, yet no change at all. It’s like the infection put up a wall. Now 2 million people whose lives have been changed, life plans on hold, p ermanently re-arranged. Anon, For Long Covid Sufferers
Dancing with lace-like shadows of forgotten worlds, the tortoiseshell creeps slowly, the last energies to lie upon the rough bark. With folded wings, Madame butterfly is no more til Spring. Charlotte
