When I think back, it never rained. On these days, the church spire reached proudly above the houses, the only thing higher was the fire ball sun.
Hedges, a fortress. Tomatoes and Marrows. Runner beans grow where the anderson shelter once stood. The land was utilised.
Beneath them – a trickle. Stand still and listen for it. Water everywhere.
On the edge of this big city, let me float with the babblng. The spring beneath feeds us all.