|Dusk, soon after six,|
My third visit for work.
Dusk, soon after six,
Lights inside shine out,
A terrace and steps down to the lawns
Merge with the shrubbery
All turns purple green.
A blackbird scuttles away clucking,
A moorhen sounds on the lake behind me.
I discover more each trip.
Next day, late afternoon the rain shines upon the flag stones,
Portico entrance to the terrace
And behind what must have been a kitchen garden?
Here now is pitched a huge plastic marquee
To house the wedding parties from Birmingham.
|Entrance to the terrace|