In times gone by, we’d take the family car
‘cross rural backroads, farmlands on display,
Expanse of nature’s palette, fields afar
from madding crowds that often swarmed our days.
These days the world has changed; we shy away
from bear hugs, kisses, handshakes, social clubs,
These niceties forbidden, long-delayed,
No end foreseen, instead our hands we scrub.
This afternoon, attempting to bear up,
Escape the endless strain of sheltering,
Green Village Farm became our healing cup,
The great outdoors and spring buds blossoming.
I strolled around the pond, and breathed a sigh,
And weeping willow breathed my heart’s reply.
Yesterday, In an attempt to get out of the house and yet remain safe we drove to The Farm at Green Village, reminding me of the days when, my father would load us in the family station wagon, to drive through Llewellyn Park on a Sunday afternoon; just to get some fresh air and green trees and escape from the closed-in environment in which we lived.
My daughter and her fiancé, dealing with their now-postponed wedding (which was to have been next Saturday), followed us in their car, so as to comply with social distancing recommendations.
The Farm, though open, made it well known that they were enforcing social distancing. The best thing about The Farm at Green Village is that while you can stock up on all of your herbs and gardening supplies (which will be put to good use over the next few weeks, one might imagine), they have wonderful grounds with walking paths around the pond, serene peacocks and beautiful flowering trees and shrubs. We hoped it would offer a welcomed respite from the tensions of the day. It did not disappoint.
I wrote this poem because as I glanced towards the pond, I paused for a moment at the weeping willow. Further across the water I spied my daughter walking hand in hand with her beau, no doubt pondering their dwindling alternatives. The willow seemed to express my emotions, as words could not.