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enigmatic

LOCAL AUTHORITY

The rain was heavy.  The road was slurred

with cow muck and clay. I slowed

then stopped the car as a straggle of cows

swayed round the bend in the lane.

Large, wild eyes caught me – dry, warm

and listening  to a string quintet –

on County Council business.

One of the beasts, sashaying to a

milky music, nudged a wing mirror askew.

Dense hedgerow became sky of enduring grey.

The elderly cowman plodded at the rear. He too

eyed the public servant lounging to an adagio.

I acknowledged his enigmatic gesture

and adjusted the mirror.

HERE

Garden, Hoole © SCES 2006



For more than half our lives, we have lived

in this enigmatic, anachronistic

Victorian villa – built to look like

a Georgian farmhouse – with ashlar blocks

at three corners, the fourth unfinished.

A Valentine’s Day removal, we ate

a takeaway in the kitchen with friends.

The wife is a widow now. Our daughter

has grown, gone and visits: her childhood

still blesses the rooms sun touches through the day’s

compass. We have watched, at the long sash window

on the half landing, the sky and the garden

change through the slow seasons –  sparrows in flight,

a leaf falling. Love lasts.