A scraggle of scribblers
trails Shalesmoor, Neepsend, Parkwood,
now and again stopped
by signs which betray no hint
of past or present purpose.

*

Above the circling
of stripped down, souped up racers
testing their mettle,
a poppy enfolds a bee
in a palace of petals.

*

Tight reservations
of wildflowers, imprisoned
trophy trees. Unheeded
sweet pea spill over a bank,
an exuberance of blues.

*

Listen to Mary Marken reading her poems on locationĀ here.