as I write
she stands near naked
before me
with only the scantest
of cover left
she
my constant companion
this year out
is near stripped bare
by the relentless winds
of autumn
scattering her cover
of gold brown leaves
into the garden
caught by fuschia
thorn hedge
and viola
magpies scour
her nakedness
seeking what
I do not know
but still they come
yet never go
she waves to me
sadly
cautiously
a neighbour
struggles against
the relentless
westerlies
unwisely
he raises his cap
in salutation
as if to say
grieve not
sweet lady
your spring
is yet to come

11/13/2013