You and I with fifty valentines and
February’s sun pale on the glass!
We count the camellia’s crimson blooms –
and remember, last summer, our grandchild
shivering with ecstasy the day
she chased her daddy with the garden hose.
From here, the house seems sentient, our
remembrancer – the lawns and borders and
parts of neighbours’ houses an urban landscape.
In this wooden hexagon – a half-glazed
gazebo, its blind back turned to a high
Victorian wall festooned with ivy
and clematis –