Palimpsest

The walk that led out through the apple trees –

the narrow, crumbling path of brick embossed

among the clumps of grass, the scattered leaves –

has vanished now. Each spring the peonies

come back, to drape their heavy bolls across

the walk that led out through the apple trees,

as if to show the way – until the breeze

dismantles them, and petals drift and toss

among the clumps of grass. The scattered leaves

half fill a plaited basket left to freeze

and thaw, and gradually darken into moss.

The walk that led out through the apple trees

has disappeared – unless, down on your knees,

searching beneath the vines that twist and cross

among the clumps of grass, the scattered leaves,

you scrape, and find – simplest of mysteries,

forgotten all this time, but not quite lost –

the walk that led out through the apple trees

among the clumps of grass, the scattered leaves.