Gardening

O temperate day:  brief flights
of sun, light cloud, light air,
birds busy everywhere - I got
stuck-in to the compost bin and
rummaged the soil - I got
four bags out, good stuff for
laying-down to feed the garden

I tidied up one lawn from all
the winter debris, the beds thick
with leaves, detritus, molehills -

I felt the air turn chill, felt the
signal and packed-up.  It was
four.

Later, I paid the usual price,
lying prone, every move an agony
and no respite.  I knocked my
body out with powerful drugs
and slept a twilight sleep of bliss
floating on a cloud.

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