Sediments
Architectural trees frame
the skeletal canopy.
Fell water fills leaf wells
in itself and of itself
a trickle down the woodland slope
revives summer-dusted stones:
a waterfall in a hollow.
Sparrow answers
its echo, tethered
faecal sacks
in wishbones, shoved in crooks
black plastic tied to branches:
piles and piles, of defecated parcels
dumped
in indivisible clumps
tree to tree
this network of polymers
corrugated becks run dry
resist
plastic channels.
White Moss compresses
secretions become sediment
Millenia from now:
plastic fossils in a silent forest
Jessica Sneddon is a poet and recent Masters graduate who is fortunate enough to call Cumbria home. Her work has appeared in Tears in the Fence, Magma, Stand, and Ink, Sweat and Tears.