Landscaping October

No time!  The hours of light recede to dark

sketches, but finger swept with charcoal marc.

The year is dying, but that’s nothing new,

it only means less hours to hack and hew

next seasons paths for spring bulbs and chipped bark.

In time, rockeries turn spiral from arc,

upcycled brick, columned; silhouetted-stark

against the cold hunters dawn; greyish-blue.

                The hours of light recede.

But time moves fast for the garden toparch,

soon morning fog will deny the suns spark.

At best, the skyline will be tinged ecru.

The cold, incremental.  Winters curfew

extends to the timeless pitch black of dark;

                recede, the hours of light. 

Tomas Bird - Glass Wood 2016