Sun threw hard shadows
Beyond the sill, summer in full
Eked out its last breaths -
As emerald curled and ebbed golden.
It was still warm and rugby
Fields yielded hardly to childs’
Boots - furious with September
And burgeoning adolescence.
We were with their hearts;
Young in that afternoon
As we toiled in bodily labour
And curled to rest embraced
By the breath of mild Autumn
Through the Bishop’s garden.
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