Wilderness

He was a square glass picture 
that moved.  There was
evening sunlight as he
fought through that ground - he 
pulled at the clinging mint, dragged 
weeds to the mound, those 
strong arms, his
sturdy body, muscules, youth - all 
worked with his worn 
army trousers and a smile - he
leaned on his rake, pushed 
sweat through his hair, surveyed 
the improving earth - he
looked up, waved 
as I watched him, watched
one moment of sweat and youth and sun,
losing and unrepeatable.  That 
wilderness was never tidy but we
met there, shared 
beer, talked 
labours of love.

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