The year of silence

The sun shines brightly
longer hours each day
The wind is in hiding
the lambs gambol

Nobody stirs abroad
A curious line of people
stretches, 7 feet apart,
to a familiar door

The ferry brings no-one
The ferry takes no-one
The brightly sprightly
visitors will not come

Each day now
is Sunday
except it is
not Sunday

Even the churches
are closed
all is shut
until further notice

The year of silence
the year of silent fear
who will be next
do we know who