An old lady was in the park today, sifting through the crackling leaves –
trying to find the hard oval of a conker among those brittle little pages
ploughing sharp drifts aside with her feet in black dress shoes
and unaware that everybody who approached her would deviate
from sealing a deal on their mobile or exercising the dog
to join the search, just for a moment.
I found one and pocketed it, like a hard smooth little heart
not deceased, but looking for a place to be of use.