In a casual wander – we appear from yonder – to the secret garden through the gate at its edge,
A Pheasant weaving slalom runs through the Sheep next door – diving for cover under the hedge!
There’s a sky in painted grey – hanging heavy over the day – shaded layers inviting the rain,
Serving up a starter – with a fine drifting mist – in and out of vision with a brief refrain!
The fruit pickers busy – while the trees dance dizzy – flowing with shudders of forceful breeze,
The circle circumnavigated – a tour in the round – putting the mind at its ease!
In sweeps the rain – preparation is tentative – held in suspension – elemental Russian roulette,
Seeking the sanctuary of the dry of the shed – contentious murmurs whisper of solemn regret!
Robin bobs and potters around the base of the Dogwoods – a constant fidget avoiding the drips,
Its leaves a shimmering – like a cascading veil – plucked by the melody of finger tips!
Drumming out a rhythm on the ridges of the roof – hypnotic patterns and we drift away,
With an early lunch – we’re a quiet bunch – out through the doorway I watch the Robin play!
There’s a growth to the gathering – the arrival of Paviland – stepping in between the showers,
Relating to colours with a kindred smile – defying the build up to supply the rain for hours!
We await a turn – betraying the forecast – catching up on stories with a tell of the tale,
There’s a return of the mist – before it starts to persist – engulfing our corner of the vale!
Bowing before the seasons autumn rainclouds – settling in for the rest of the day,
The collective gathered – concede to the elements – with Plan B motioned to lead the way!
Seagulls calling with their exclamations – faded figures through a misted sky,
Heeding the call – we retire one and all – to raise a toast of Mead before we say goodbye!