Glumsville with Japanese maple - an abstract sketch
It's raining here,Somewhere between
Texas and Nepal,
The sky is as grey
As the confederacy,
As uniform as the
First day back at school.
Jelly feet splish-splash through
The mind-puddles,
Stamp out a surge
Of muddied memories,
Tsunami of tortured
Thoughts, rippling,
Rippling to the next
Grid...
...now booted footsteps,
Those of the postman,
But he delivers only
A wry smile meaning
Nothing for you.
Still is the birdless air,
Not even a flick of wind,
Still the iron rain falls and flows
Into the crucibles of cracks,
Forging a new waterscape...
... now carpeted footsteps,
Those of next door's cat,
Carefully picking his way
Across the stepping stones,
Migrating to the shelter of
The Japanese maple.
It's funny, last week
I listened to a gardening
Programme in which an
Expert said that you
Could water a Japanese
Maple as much as you
Wanted and it would
Be a very happy tree.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 547 times
Written on 2017-09-05 at 11:13
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Lawrence Beck |
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ken d williams |
