a garden in the evening
Things are happening here and I am the only
one who knows which
I shall name them and also say why
there’s an old garden seat standing under the apple-tree
an old football lying in the grass
old sounds are coming out of the house
there is old light in the sky
this is happening here: a garden in the evening
and what you don’t hear and don’t see - the places
where we dug holes
and filled them up again, weeping
I tell you this because I do not want to be alone
before I am