ALLOTMENTS
I don’t have the country
Nor cousins to visit and drink lemonade
no landscape to yearn for when stuck
in a red brick wilderness
but I have a key to another heaven
another kingdom without
government taxes and power
who’s patron saint is Percy Thrower
where I can disappear like a rabbit down a hole and
appear in
the allotment
my fields my trees my bush my jungle my shanty town
my rough paths of upturned wheelbarrows
entrenched forks abandoned spades
casual work lazy days smokey roll up afternoons
where a few chickens share the sunlight
sloping sheds that dance in all weathers
swaying plastic barrels will always have a drink
heart is where the allotment is
mine ‘s as big as a cabbage when there
the neat surrounding gardens
that border my kingdom tut tut in scorn
‘those dreadful shed people’
but these tidy neighbors
lack a certain unruly charm
a unique voice a grounded air an allotment
away from congestion and concern
ant like toil and consumer care
no dull anthem here but bird song
a joy for the eyes and a lift for the spirit
I don’t have a country but an eccentric
sanctuary an allotment
an escape hatch from the town roar
you only hear when the city score
where everything quietly grows
in rows to ripen when nobody knows
to find my country look in the town
but it’s a secret kingdom an allotment
if you go through it’s gate
shut it !