Allotment Refuge

The Arun goes rogue,
bursting banks, reclaiming
flood plains, thieving topsoil,

careering down roadsides.
Patiently I cut the old canes
and string away from the wires,

the frame that held their harvest.
The allotment quietly thrums
after the rain, air vibrating.

I disentangle the new canes,
tying, looping, securing.
Its peaceful here, birds sing.

I think of Australia, its fragile
native landscape still burning.
I cut down the raspberry canes

confident of new spring growth,
harvest Jerusalem artichokes
and kale, untouched by flood or flame.

Won The Ernest Sheppard Poetry Competition 2020 run annually by Horsham Writer’s Circle