I've posted the last of my Herefordshire poems from this summer. You can read it here. As I look out at the grey dampness of a bleak Scottish end-of-summer day, I can just feel the warmth of that garden where there was so much life.
The poem itself seemed to come out in a new form. Maybe I was infected by the sudden short rushes of the birds I was watching - the four stresses in each line certainly remind me of the moment. A warming remembrance on this greyest of afternoons.