NIGHTFALL
Round the neglected darkness of your mind
In odd corners lie
A forgotten collar, rusty shoes, old hoes.
You haven't been here for twenty years or more.
Was it a death or madness broke it off -
The haysel and the ploughing ?
You listen to slow voices in the gloom.
A heavy horse stands steaming in the yard.
Dogs sit about to catch unwanted scraps
And lamps are lit as labourers disperse.
The ceremony stills. It must be soon
The breathing finished in an upstairs room,
The lamps went out for ever and your plough
Rusted to the state it lies in now.
Alasdair Aston
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