Michael Newman
Gambles Lane
Round the corner,
I disturb a pigeon,
Worry the bird
Into a flap-fluster dash to safety.
This rain is insidious.
What started off as a few spots
Has dampened road and clothes and spirit.
The western horizon sags
With water, shreds on jagged trees.
Another corner, another confrontation.
Rabbits, flushed out of thigh-length grass.
Who lived in this empty cottage
I never knew -
Crumbling stones, overgrown garden,
A tipsy wall that topples
Into a compost pit.
There were stories of a gypsy
Unsettled down,
Of a pony-and-trap jingling
Through the midnight hour.
Once I saw a ghost,
A shadow indefinable -
No, only trees in the rain,
Huddled against gusts,
Playing tricks.
Page(s) 28-29
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