Conker Tree (Horse Chestnut)
The chestnut's of the first to feel the call,
cork off its leaves, cede to abscission fires,
deep singes tattering ovate fingers,
as yellow flame licks up from base to crown,
resigning its reserves to ripen seeds,
the globes of cases hung to spike and split
on strings the winds will worry at and nag
and frosty dawns will shiver deep to fray.
Encouraged children grasp some fresh-hulled gleams
of silky polished earths to treasure - mess
on grass the rest till Parky cleans them up -
while robins sing memorials of spring.
YOU ARE READING
Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
