We walk around the local park in pairs
Or else alone. No groups. No children play.
Like lords and ladies, out to take the air,
Or prisoners taking their hour a day
Out in the yard. It’s only been this way
A week, but everybody’s got it down:
And when we pass, nobody has to say
A thing. We step aside. We walk around.
It’s oddly formal. There’s hardly a sound.
No shouting, traffic’s quiet. We don’t talk
That much. We simply make our daily round
This ritual: the Covid-19 walk.
It’s strange to walk in circles even though
We’re well aware there’s nowhere else to go.
Tom Juniper Poetry 