Here’s another great entry from poet Nina Lewis:
Brindley followed contours
cut land by its own shape,
a wide canal for Trow and Wich boats.
For over 160 years
trade bore your waters,
your vertebral body, industrially strong.
From dominance to decline.
Before the war started,
you were abandoned.
Redundancy grew you fierce, feral wild.
Your water was given a wide berth,
townsfolk drew rings around it.
Reborn from a derelict channel
you were brought back to life,
Otter holts, bat and kestrel boxes added,
trees and wild flowers planted.
Town watched you grow your breath back.