Brixton March 2021

Young tree
Fell
In our neighbourhood.
Vicious, ill wind.
Peculiar
Perpendicular,
Beauty prostrate
Before its time.
It’s time.

Cordoned,
Like a crime scene
Warding children from dead branches.
Are they yet?
Does it all stop so soon?
Why, Daddy?
Red and white warn,
Stay clear.
We will tidy this away;
The mess of death.
For now,
I am transfixed.
I can’t run past.
The glory of the tree
Has left
Wooden remains.
What’s to be done.