poppies in september,
remember Juriel?
and seedlings
he came walking up the garden path
puffing grandpa smoke,
wrens jumping
tap, dripping time drops
into the bird bath,
we ate crumbs
after autumn
the tennis stopped;
too cold to pick onions
tea cake in the sun room,
Juriel would laugh
gold teeth chattering
willow banks and cricket,
off to join the Luftwaffe,
before the season’s over
the thermos always leaked
and the tattered wicker basket,
we kept them anyway
excellent hydrangeas
second prize, open division;
however, the pomegranate marmalade disappointed
the cliff that day,
seagull squadron on standby,
Juriel saw only the blue
noiseless it was
marmalade got on everything
gold teeth scattered everywhere
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