Three Lane Ends

Leaves ankle deep,
Though fuchsias
Still dance
By my window.
But
Roses so sadly
Bow their heads
Along the last line
Of summer resistance.


Out and about,
Well drained
Chocolate fields
Are harrowed
To a tilth.
While
Pastures retain
The stain of
The last deluge.
Below the rising ground
Clumped rushes
Are in standing water
Still half hid.

Beyond the marsh
Above the church's tower
The crusader's flag,
Unlike the land
With dogged hope,
Not drowning but waving
Albeit,
Beneath the doubtful eye
Of a solitary rook.

JL Oct 25 12:49