Afterlife

In Highgate wood, a flutter of
red breast and umber follows me
from oak to hornbeam

I pin you to it, this playful thing
come to see if I am walking well,
if my face is round from sleep
or the spores of spring

Further down, a pair of magpies stalk
the path, I tip my hat to them -
two for joy; my fortune found

Beth Punnett (she/they) is a poet based in North London. They write best when out walking, when memories are sharp and it's just them and their notes app. You can find them on Instagram - @poetbeth