Amid the excavators tearing up
The ground, an overwintering tree still stands,
Surviving on its grey grass island
In a sea of concrete, brick and builder’s sand,
As history once again is overlaid
According to some grand expensive plan.
And yet its roots run far beneath to where
The old Elizabethan leat once ran.
So though a busy din rings out around
The site, maybe one day in the spring,
The blackbird will return and over all
The noise its ancient melody shall sing.
22 Feb 25
For the original poem on Armada Way click here
The writings of Revd Tim Buckley 