Thursday 15 September 2011

Autumn gardening


From windfall apples reel drunken wasps,
And a cat curls asleep in the border,
Coat rusty with age and lifted with purrs.
A hollyhock unfurls crimson skirts, and
A moth stutters like Morse code from flower to flower,
Discarding each daisy thrice visited.
White-bellied spiders teeter from leaf to stem,
Hurrying from the gardener's hand,
As it pauses, cuts,
And summer's magic collapses to the ground.


3 comments:

  1. Oh yes BB - summer's magic is collapsing everywhere here - especially after that awful windy spell at the weekend.

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  2. I like the images your words conjure--other autumns, other gardens--the rich full smell of ripeness [just on the edge of fermentation in the case of the apples] and the company of cats as we go about the chores of setting the garden to rights before winter.

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  3. What lovely words,so evocative of Autumn in its glory and sadness.

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