Surpinto wrote: ↑<span title="Sun Mar 07, 2021 3:03 pm">3 years ago</span>
Moose with hand sanitizer!
Hoof sanitizer, surely?
While checking my diary for what I wrote about Daniel singing "If" I stumbled over the poem I wrote that day, while sitting in a nearly empty Wetherspoons in Victoria in between the two concerts. Crazy times. Comrade from the north is Yorkie by the way.
Libera Me
Familiar but different that's how it feels, watching out of the window, as the world wheels.
The tables are empty, with no friend in sight, while everyone waits for the end of the blight.
Supping on a pint, trying to make it last, filling the silence with conversations past.
Before long it is time to wander the streets, looking for a chance to hear the wondrous beats.
A concert of carols to herald the yule, under the four towers of an upturned stool.
A new but familiar comrade from the north, provides a partner for the old back and forth.
In troop the singers and they are not immune, to the changes wrought by the pandemic tune.
Distanced like us it is hard to shake the gloom, as they turn their backs on that alien room.
It starts with a blur of the new and the old, the joy of their singing driving out the cold!
And as magical voices build and then fade, they make it impossible not to be swayed.
By the time that the notes have faded and died, there is a new feeling blossoming inside.
After the applause of a rapturous crowd, an encore, finally, banishes that cloud.
It's time to ponder to review and dissect, but on the steps there is no time to reflect.
An old friend calls out as a final surprise, but he's in a hurry and says his goodbyes.
It's over for now, it is time to make hay, and the bliss of that hour warms me on the way.
I know there's no reason to feel sad or blue, as I will be back here, in an hour or two!