Thursday, 4 September 2008

A Train-set Afternoon,

Bunting sags,
flags droop;
only the hardy
splash through the puddles
in their Hunter wellies
to buy from the Cake Stall
(covered by plastic sheeting),
to hand over the wet coins
with cold, red hands,
and hurry to the tea tent
to push into the steaming crowd.

Gardens Open.
Poppies give way
under the strain,
collapsing into wet heaps
on the fresh, shining lawn.
Lupins lean,
lolling against the
delphiniums,
heavy and spoiled
in the space of an hour.

Pine needles
drop wetly from branches,
filling the gutters,
choking the grating,
paddling into the carpet of the
Conservatory Tea Room.

In The Pavilion
the cucumber sandwiches
sadden.
The windows steam up
from the urn and the
desultory talk of the batsmen.
Outside
the crease steams
through the haze
and round the edges of the field
horse-chestnuts dip their fingers
limply towards the puddles.

2 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

That really does capture a wet outdoor event very well. Excellent descriptions, especially the saddening sandwiches

Janice Thomson said...

This is lovely - and full of delightful imagery. One can vividly imagine the rain pouring down with the resulting consequences you describe. Beautifully written Weaver.