This old path ends, abruptly, at a fence
that circles round the place where trees had stood.
Once branches arched above a bluebell glade
but now, with scaffold poles, a forest’s made.
CONSTRUCTION SITE, KEEP OUT, the notice says
so from this world of brick all birds have flown;
no place of shelter for the roving deer
and rabbit, stoat and fox have disappeared.
In time the new estate will be unveiled
with streets named after “heritage we share” —
but not one creature, tree or plant remains
to prove this place was once more than their names.
Patrick B. Osada