The moving sculpture represents water
The moving water
Asks the water lilies to stand proud
Or is it the occasional sunlight
Through the broken cloud
The breeze lifts
My fine auburn hair
In waves across
My thin framed spectacles
The light lead
Is automatically fed
Into my Rotring
Vorsprung dur technic
Precision writing pencil
I look for words
The draughtsman's kerbs
The straight lines to nowhere
Are long forgotten
Gardeners move hither
Into and out of
The garden centre where they wither
They choose to wilt
In silt that is right out of the sunlight
Anything, or nothing
To avoid the metallic cams and tubular rings
Which at this moment lie still
Defiant under the gaze of the two wishful brothers
The sculpture, now an installation
Springs into life, visually
I do believe that the artist is on to something
But as always
It is the detail which lets him down
The sounds of ill-fitting mechanisations
The grind that grinds you down to ground
The resounding sound
Of ill-fitting mechanisations
The sculpture is now an installation
An installation which goes up and down
But in sympathetic non-symphonic time
The sculpture wears a frown
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