Chiffchaff

The path is empty as I leave the village. Walking away from ‘the virus’, socially distancing myself, searching for the sanity of nature.

Great tits cover feeders, undisturbed by visitors in the carless castle carpark. Standing in the stillness, I breathe. Surrounded by branches draped in lime lichens, anxiety sinks into the mud with my boots.

“Chiff chaff, chiff chaff, chiff chaff!”

There it is! The world stops as spring completes its arrival. No matter that crinkled leaves still cling to the stubborn oak, unbothered by our increasingly mild winters. I catch a glimpse of the bird in question as its silhouette flits above. Its needlepoint beak stands out against the steamy sky. It leaves me here alone. The year is moving on.

As first published in: Writes of Spring