Understory

Step-picking carefully

through the littered garden corpses

my final coup-de-grace,

lopping, unearthing, casting out

the last of the summer loveliness,

now vague

rime-embalmed statues all,

dampness hangs at every turn,

underfoot, in stinging nostrils

pervading thick warm clothing,

on each flat surface,

brittle steel reflections on riven stone

shimmers in buckets not stowed upside-down

frozen droplets toboggan on window panes

the earth is wet,

soddened, brimming full,

the fresh vapour of death, nauseous

has stolen through the cracks

festering, funereal, forlorn.

Published by grahamrsherwood