I don't often feel moved to write a poem & was going to write a piece, but a poem was shorter & just came about!
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On the grimmer of my town's streets
One clipped hedge.
In the garden that became a car park,
One blossoming tree.
A bush blooms, tumbling from the railway.
Between the stalwarts standing by the bins
And their maimed comrades,
Stumps mark arboreal graves.
Amid chemicals, control and concrete
They sing silently of spring
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