Sitting In the Park

They mowed the grass the day before, The cuttings strewn upon the floor, I sat upon the bench and saw The cricket pitch. The men in white with willow bats And padded knees and ice-cream hats, The splitting stumps and yelled “Owzats!” Time’s dropped stitch. Upon the ruined castle wall, A brick or two seemed poised to fall, Yet gravity defied to call Them tumbling down. As sparrows in the gaping cracks Flew in and out their nesting tasks, A ginger tom in sunshine basks And yawns but does not frown. The scudding clouds traversed the sky, A crow upon the rail nearby Winked a darkly gleaming eye Foretelling rain. Thunder steamrolled overhead, Turned thoughts of wake to thoughts of bed, “It’s time to go,” some phantom said Yet I took no heed. I sat there in the park all day, As azure skies dissolved to grey, And saw the people rush away When the heavens bleed. They mowed the grass the day just done So blades turned yellow by the sun Rejoined the earth, became as one, Decaying in the soil. The shilling drops fall on me now, And I remain beneath the bough, As time moves on I wonder how To keep this mortal coil,