Poem: Wildlife

'Pond a plant or plant a pond?'

Pond a plant or plant a pond?

Yesterday I did both, dug into 

the long grass lawn to sky water 

a small habitat for when next spring emerges

in damsel flies, spawn and Japanese anemones.

Then came the heavy showers that can’t be carried.

They cross the coast unlike anything crushed 

by hurricane winds.

These are thin cloud-scuds breaking 

over those high hills above the A38.

Today I spade through the yellow clay, 

a blade deep before reaching sand grit.

I layer cardboard under the membrane 

so the rain collects in pools.

There are no bodies to bury here. 

I’m careful not to harm the worms, 

stirring in Jacqueline’s horse dung 

to mutate the clay and add nutrient.

It’s a wildlife here in the undergrowth,

I’m filthy dirty, then I notice 

I’ve blood on my hands. 

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