…

the ducks fed me

      regurgitated breadcrumbs

& green duckweed

      scooped with their beaks

from the bottom of the derwent

      which flowed to bleaklow moor

north from the trent

      as a toddler mauled a staffie

their parents used to say

      it’s nurture not nature

in the park again

      yet change rearranged

so old biddies gathered

     high on aspartame

vaping & littering

      if their grandkids found out

they’d no doubt – be ashamed

      & blame the internet

leaves fell upwards

      from the ground to the trees

not one cottager

     stuffed inside the cubicles

of the gents bog

      which flushed like a dream

cyclists remembered

      what their bells were for

the ice cream van

     sold hot mister whippies

the moon shined bright – come noon

      & all the tossers jogging

watched where they were going

      & never hogged the path

…