MY ROCK

by roy k austin
(Dorset England)

My granite rock
bordered by a little fence

and a hedgerow
that surrounds a garden,

a house and all it's sundries
continually refurbished

but slowly, crumbling away
through each changing scene;

one tries does one not
to live in the moment

as the bovine do
in fields beyond?

As the crow flicks the moss
off the leaning roof

and my lovely dog
useless at pulling weeds

guards her pack, at the gate,
her garden such as it is!

The unwanted seeds
that alight unseen and root

to shoot in unwanted places,
when the cuckoo, satisfied

stops calling and autumn
seems to be nearer,

when swallows are off
to southern hills

like darts of flame,
departing to return

as light that shoots
the green of summer,

as time knocks at the door
with so much more

while my rock stubbornly sits
to mock at all this waiting.

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