Gathering

 

 

We always knew the months Orion would be clear above our roofs,

the years the damson trees would yield a heavy crop.

 

We knew when geese would split the skies and flocks

of field-fares arrive to strip the berries from our trees,

 

the time for harvesting, the holly’s ripening,

the time of wood-smoke and the sawing of logs.

 

We never thought that we’d no longer read

the seasons as we used to do –

 

not know when to plant and when to sow,

nor what would prosper in the endless days of rain,

 

nor when the date of gathering might be

(one meagre week of sun, and so much to be done).

 

We look up at uncertain skies, wring our hands,

and ask each other  ‘What’s to come?’

 

 

Gill McEvoy is a Hawthornden Fellow. Full collection The Plucking Shed (Cinnamon Press 2010). 2nd collection Rise due from Cinnamon, May 2013. Gill runs many poetry events in Chester where she lives.