Where did they all go?
Thickets of love and pain
rustle in a dry light
and skeins of corvidae
traipse to a dusk roost.

Time is a flip book.
Lift your dear hand
and feel the pages purr
as years fan by
in their lost variegations

of green, gold, brown,
and an old cat,
white as a child’s Christmas,
trots a careful way
through his once kingdom.

The post Goodman’s Garden appeared first on The Spectator.