There is a cypress tree
in the middle of the courtyard;
its sunken chest become hollow.
It is very old.
One day a starling passed by –
it was very cold –
and dropped a lunch berry
The berry fell down deep
into the dark cavern
of the cypress tree’s age.
Now a mulberry tree grows there,
like a bashful dancer,
sprung straight from the
other tree’s feet.
A bicycle under a blue tarpaulin
Under a leaf hanging on a single thread
Left by the spider before he went to bed
Nearby a gnome, red hat and spade
Hides in the shade of an acer tree
Just behind the rosemary
Let me out, he seems to say
I need to blow the cobwebs away –
Let me have a go on that bike.
Michael Wagg is an actor and writer. He has written for The Guardian and The Observer, and writes for theatre. His blog is at www.ducksong.wordpress.com