Old Ground by Tracey Scott-Townsend
A psycho-geography walk through memories of time an place.
Tracey Scott‐Townsend jumps through history and uses magical realism to make her walk seem almost dreamlike, written as myth.
Poppies bow by the locked gate, forget-me-nots hide in the long grass. Beyond the fence, candle-flowers flare on a horse-chestnut. The gold of a dripping Laburnum shines between maple leaves.
The sky – intense blue.
Along the banks of the drain adjacent to the fenced-in wilderness, tall grasses swing and sigh, heads heavy with seeds. May blossom is whiter for its contrast with viridian shadows. Yellow-green-crowned beeches stand waist-deep in Queen Anne’s lace – umbrella-clusters frothing white. Weeping willows’ herringboned trunks arc the drain, trailing long-leafed tears.
A gaping hole; black-mouthed in ridged bark.