Apologies for the slightly later post today- I've had a bit of an issue with my antivirus- namely it resetting my computer for an update just as I was saving my post! Thankfully, as I appear to be able to write only in 'rhyme' these days, I managed to remember most of it.
With winter approaching fast, it is the prime time of the year for my father to high-ear me down to the allotment to get things done. I always find it incredibly satisfying down there, just lugging things about, weeding, planting, thinking and such so with the days getting shorter, I figured I should get down and finish the path I promised him a fortnight ago.
Thinking about the blog ahead of time (I know, me!) I was trying to prepare a poem along the idea of Autumn leaves- specifically the way they blow about on the roads. I was happily gathering up leeks and such and what should happen... well, I'll let you read the poem. I guess I'm just a sensitive soul these days.
Mighty Shameful Harvest
Clung to the road like a family of mice
skittering about in the windthe autumn leaves are a warning sign
beware the treacherous bend
As I slid the Mondeo towards a tree
panic-swerved to mount the vergeI hadn't thought to notice them-
I was just eighteen, just learned.
Then down at the garden a decade on
He swaggered my way from the shedBeaming and strutting he held out his arm
Three pairs of socks hanged there, dead.
"You should see my bin" was his wry remark
As I told him he should eat thembut the pitiful thing about this lifeless tale
he was harvesting from a good season.
Thanks for reading,
S.
