This time of being shut away

Has brought to mind the every day

The fragile joy, so quick to wane

Which glimmers softly in the mundane

The world has shrunk, it seems to strain

Against the pain it must contain

The children press their palms to glass

Interred with thoughts that cannot pass

But power lies within these walls

Its whisper louder than the squalls

You’ll find it in the side by side

Needle thin,  infinitely wide

It’s present in the sticky dough

In hands that knead and stretch and throw

A glimpse you’ll see in pungent soil

Where brand new shoots start to uncoil

It bubbles in the pancake batter

punctuates the aimless natter

screams softly from scarlet brushstrokes

gladdens in the golden egg yolks

A force that jostles in the board game

Nudging out all sense of shame

Winking in the silver foil

Sighing as the carrots boil

It’s in a splinter on soft flesh

Or threaded in a beaded mesh

It tinkles from the homemade charms

Head cocked proudly, folded arms

This, it says, is where you find

That thing rejoining body and mind

The healing balm that comes with touch

And deftly wipes away so much

It’s laid bare in the strengthing bonds

Rustling in the ribboned fronds

It’s woven in the silken plaits

Stands proud in homemade paper hats

It’s in the mundane every day

The things we thought they’d thrown away

It’s in the inner child that pleads

And weeps and laughs and shakes and bleeds

It’s in the brave attempts to teach

And there when tears begin to breach

The void between the old and new

Shards. Made whole. With grit and glue

It’s in the you, the them, the us

It’s in the quiet times and the fuss

In the calm and in the bluster

This is what it is to foster…..

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