Take Three

DRAWING TO A CLOSE

Nothing points more to summer

drawing to a close

than seed pods,

thistledown,

a lone, pink flower that’s done its dash,

bell-shaped with finality,

a rose bud

against concrete and brick,

hydrangeas

at the back of a shed,

an upturned wheelbarrow

of battered blue

and birds

eating the berries

and dropped plums.

~*~

THE OTHER SIDE

The inlet calling,

full tide,

cliff face,

ruff

of agapanthus, white

and blue,

stalking

the Vauxhall boat shed. Across the harbour,

closer than you think,

tall villas of ruddy brick

with wizard hat rooves

pointing nowhere.

~*~

LOOKING ACROSS

Looking across to the causeway

and a yellow car,

a blue car,

a red car,

and My Mate John’s van

going somewhere

unlike our son’s van, decommissioned,

as patient as Grey Friar’s Bobby,

as it sits under trees,

ready for the return of our son

with his wife and drei Kinder

back here

where today there was gold

under the rainbow.