Orchard
No more greenfinch,
no more treecreeper,
no more sparrow hawk;
hedgerows slashed
to make way for roads.
Orchards torn up for houses –
confused woodpeckers
still seek dead-wood and bug.
On a single patch of grass
in the midst of brick and slate
two apple trees remain.
One scarred black as dried blood,
the other, gnarly eyed
for staring into windows.
Belinda Rimmer has worked as a psychiatric nurse, lecturer and creative arts practitioner. Her poems have appeared in magazines, on-line and in anthologies. She won the Poetry in Motion Competition to turn her poem into a film and has read at the Cheltenham Literature Festival. www.belindarimmer.com