GREEN SHADE
At Avenue's end, on my rounds,
Lost lanes abound, bumped and cracked,
Where people eyed me strangely,
And warned me gone from there,
I noticed piles of compost,
Outside houses hanging corn,
Wheelbarrows and Wellingtons,
Leaned against brick walls and red barns,
And the smell of cow manure,
In fresh, straw piles on the lane,
Blocked my path through in huge mounds
I walked to an inn for help,
Knocked and no-one answered me,
Then I yelled out to my echo,
After a long pause of quiet,
Out shuffled a tired old man,
With a wild beard and snake hair,
He proceeded to advise,
I was stunned by his sad pleas,
To make leave and not look back,
His teeth were cracked and his eyes worn,
Breath hot, I have not forgot
I spoke to him kindly,
Of the pretty green gardens,
Behind the houses and lanes,
He was unmoved by kindness,
He warned me coldly, staring,
His speech leery and slurring,
'Sir, all is not peace and still,
Nature's cruelty not quite tamed,
Its bloodied maws still beckon,
For the unwary, like you,
For all that is living, dies'
Crows shrieked and cawed, as he spoke,
Calling their warning, 'cross wastes,
I remained still in my mind,
To the robin's whistle song,
As the cold grey man went on,
'Listen', he said, grabbing me,
'Bees beat their wings and hover,
As they hurry and gather,
While flies buzz all around too,
They all must greet their maker,
Meet their deaths in silken traps'
'That is why we must make hay,
Not leave life to close of day,
Or put off joy to the 'morrow,
That is why we choose to live,
Here in this quiet repose,
Where we are free from your chains',
My mind chilled at these refrains,
I continued my day's rounds,
And ignored the sad man's claims,
That very day they caught me,
Put me down under dark sod
My cold body remains still,
In a treeless yard, I rest,
Beneath a new exedra,
Here I now lay in green shade
