The world awakes, a riot of colour,
while we shelter underground,
creatures out of our season.
April passes the window, greenery
and blooms growing over paths
now left to their own devices.
Like prey animals, hunted by
an unseen foe that chokes,
we are prisoners of our homes
until necessity drives us out.
The occasional wary excursion
avoiding all contact with others,
dazed and hurrying with purpose.
Before long we must retreat back
into our imagined safety, building
cardboard castles and pillow forts.
As a species, we no longer feel
invulnerable; anyone could be next
in a war fought out of sight.
Our hard-won sense of security
has been torn down, after all
the waste and treachery we
turned a blind eye to - it is
our bodies who betray us.
The elite we trusted to lead us,
left us defenceless to the onslaught.
In the eerily deserted streets
foxes and other scavengers
roam freely, unafraid as we were.
Our imposed hibernation soon
grows oppressive, and we lie
awake at night, restless, trying
to imagine what awaits us.