Pruning the Past by Phil McNulty

 

The dogs are barking

and it’s there again

in our hedge.

You can’t say I’m dreaming.

I see it moving, shaking

clipping, pruning.

Slipping between privets.

 

On Monday, I thought I saw a hand

taking birdseed, filching peanuts.

Yesterday it pulled in plastic bags.

Made a shelter of dead leaves

and knitted branches,

still sparse ‘til summer’s growth.

I see a slender shape

a  vaguely crouching form.

 

I’m old enough for answers.

 

What did happen to Mum

All those years ago?

All we were told

was that she went out,

to buy some seceteurs.

Add comment


Security code
Refresh