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.