FLASHBACK

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THIS NEST,

HIGH ON THE ENGLISH OAK,

OLDEST TREE IN THE SPINNEY,

THIS FEATHERED OLD BRANCH,

FESTOONED WITH LEAF,

LIKE A VILLAGE SUMMER FETE,

WITH BUNTING TO THE NINES,

THIS PLACE WHERE,

I NESTED LIKE A BUZZARD…

IS JUST A FLASHBACK.

 

THE HEIGHTS FELLED WITH DISEASE,

AND THEN BY THE CHAINSAW…

THIS PLACE ONLY EXISTS IN MY MIND.

HERE IT SITS STILL MAJESTIC, STILL MINE,

AND I CAN ENVISAGE THE VISTA…

WHICH ONLY BUZZARDS  SEE NOW .

 

ALL THE PLACES OF WONDER,

ALL THE WONDERFUL PLACES,

ARE GONE IN THE REAL WORLD,

BUT IN MY MIND THEY REMAIN,

VIRTUALLY,

THE SAME.

 

THE PLACES AND PEOPLE,

WHO POPULATED MY LOVE…

HAVE BEEN THINNED,

BY AN OVER ZEALOUS GARDENER

AND THE SOIL BECOMES SO HARD-BAKED,

I FIND IT DIFFICULT TO CULTIVATE.

ANEW.

 

DALE ‘M’

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