The earthliness of the day attracts me
Slight drizzle, tight breeze
Blighted head after last nights
Light filled, late fight celebration
The stillness of the damp, limp leaves
On the sorrowful Laburnum tree
Mirrors the pace of my hoped for thoughts
If only a gardener, with a wheelbarrow
Could trip across the lawns, or if the
Delivery-men would nip around
With our artisan's shepherds hut
