Tawna Mitchell

Tawna grew up in the middle of the countryside in Cornwall and later Devon, but moved to London seven years ago, where she now works as a Speech and Language Therapist. Tawna writes simple poems with natural themes, strong imagery and emotions.

Pocketing Time

I pass through the iron gate,
And already the sounds of the city
Have faded into a green
Swaying of leaves, soft
Sycamores spiralling on
A sky-lake.

In this walled pocket
Of the city, nature
Is taking back its space
In a euphoric sprawling,
Twisting and tumbling of
Labyrinthine paths.

I go deeper in.

Brush past nettles as
Other plants unfurl
Languidly across my path.
A patch of sun-dappled
Petal confetti surprises
Me, as I pick my way

Among the ivy-
Encrusted tomb stones.
Odours of someone’s
Kitchen and a distant
Honking linger on the
Breeze; traces of other

Lives being lived. Suddenly
My path opens out into a
Clearing of clattering branches
That make me look up,
Snatch the moment
And here I am:

A London park that could be
Another world.

© 2019 Tawna Mitchell