A Zylstra, Rosebank
Oh shimmering morning sea
of soon to be acid,
I see
you are golden
your phlegm coloured face,
shining
feverishly.
I feel the breath of spring
strained through warp and weft
of silver net
cast worldwide
to keep the human virus
trapped inside.
I hear the rise and fall
of bird call, of bees; Trill of fear, warning pulse oh please, oh please, oh please…
beneath sinking shroud
of soft
soft
smoke.


For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling.