An alley still echoes the moor the heath the poor and the thief
Rich with blackberries, gorse, mountain ash and wild cherry
The longest season this year, eight weeks while
Elsewhere a profusion of plums
Apples galore
White currants still sweet
A moment of thought
Thoughtlessness
And if this was the last year and next year the year to recall the last year?
There were words
Here they are.
