February and it’s too warm to wear a coat. We feed the groggy bees with sugar-water from a Calpol syringe.
You say, I’m frightened; I’m frightened of this weather and I’m frightened of what the world will be like when I’m older.
And I’m frightened too. My body’s frightened of this little summer; it’s out of time and out of tune. I’m frightened of what the world will be like for you.
I say hopeful things, that humanity can do better; that we will get our act in order. That we will have to.
We get our own small act in order. We take the train, go vegan, refuse plastic, buy less and less.
But that is tiny. We are tiny. We watch parliament cut itself to pieces. We watch the cars belt past our house, planes tear across the sky. We feed the bees. And we are afraid.
Jo Baker