I lean my cycle against the shed
And make for the door lowering my head
Driving sleet and rain and wind.
Bites my face as I let myself in.
0utside the trees like ghostly shapes.
Are tossing and heaving right across space.
I see the master approaching now.
Ducking and weaving to avoid a tree bough.
It,s pretty hopeless today he says.
Follow me without delay.
We walk to the big house, I cannot win.
He pushes open the big door and takes me in.
I,ve got you a painting job, he says.
These gentry folk they have strange ways.
Well I,m a gardener rain or shine
I pray each night for the weather to be kind.
Keith Wilson. Windermere UK 2016.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
I lean my cycle against the shed
And make for the door lowering my head
Driving sleet and rain and wind.
Bites my face as I let myself in.
0utside the trees like ghostly shapes.
Are tossing and heaving right across space.
I see the master approaching now.
Ducking and weaving to avoid a tree bough.
It,s pretty hopeless today he says.
Follow me without delay.
We walk to the big house, I cannot win.
He pushes open the big door and takes me in.
I,ve got you a painting job, he says.
These gentry folk they have strange ways.
Well I,m a gardener rain or shine
I pray each night for the weather to be kind.
Keith Wilson. Windermere UK 2016.
