20th April 2026

 

daughter's birthday

twenty-eight years passed since we met

when she was but twelve

© Rachel Green April 2026

Along the path

I toss bread onto the roof

of an abandoned building

where it lies among sedges

and sycamore seedlings

grasping at life from a centimetre of leaf mould.

Regulations

prevent me tossing it in the trash

and in the compost it becomes a foetid mess

at least here it can be taken

by birds too lazy to search for grubs

and squirrels at my daughter's bedtime,

and if left in piece

will allow microscopic fungal blooms

tiny proto-humanity

separated by a strand of DNA

and the process of evolution

© Rachel Green April 2026