LEAVINGS

Before the downpour and the flood, this stream was meant
for sparrows as a spa. Now insects bubble
in its yellow scum.

Irresistible the side roads, like this mucky pocket-park
where leaves of Merovingian gold still lurk
like scratch-cards in the mud.  

Silver foil’s a metal dagger, trampled down between the roots,
reds and blues of ice-cream wraps
are banners in the grime.

In one soft corner of the wood a plastic bag’s a thin white owl,
puddles flecked in shattered glass a small
and sparkling green.   


* Mandy Pannett is a regular contributor to IS&T. She runs an arts cafe, supports local writing groups and enjoys giving readings and running writing workshops. She has two poetry collections from Oversteps Books – Bee Purple and Frost Hollow.