I set out this morning
to take a pot of jelly to a neighbour,
catch a flash of white on the door next door but one.
A louer, it says: for rent.
Where have they gone, my little friends
who played on the slide and the swing?
You can’t rely on anything
to stay the same
except the mallow growing wild
and a small brown butterfly.
Margo Roby wants us to take a walk, explore the unexpected.