As we stop-start

By Jenny Hockey

all the way down Ecclesall Road
under a sky in leaf, one venerable lime, 
then one more, planted deep 
among paving slabs,

the child remembers the chainsaws,
asks why policemen let them come 
the night I stood under a tree — 
the morning when stumps were all 
we had left, the day I spent in a cell
after they took me away 

and I tell her kerb stones must be straight, 
tell her the lumps and bumps of roots
could trip up a man with a stick, that branches
can fall on a pram, leaves block a drain, 

I tell her all the old make-believe
about why in the end they’re just trees 

and praise be to her
for not believing a word.

Jenny Hockey retired from academia to make time for writing poems, memoirs, and reviews. She lives with her partner in Sheffield, UK and when she’s not at her desk she's likely to be cycling, running, gardening or sewing. In 2013 she received a New Poets Award from New Writing North and her collection, Going to bed with the moon, appeared in 2019 (overstepsbooks.com, jennyhockeypoetry.co.uk, familyhistoryandwar.com).