Fork
(1960?)
One late November afternoon,
while clearing from a neglected corner,
of the old garden
a barbed-wire entanglement
of bramble and brown raspberry canes,
I found the fork,
upright, firm-pronged in the earth
where someone had thrust it,
how many years before?
The handle was split, the shaft
damp but not rotten.
Whose hand was imprinted
upon the smooth wood?
He had paused perhaps to fill a pipe.
Had caught the spicy woodsmoke scent
of leaves and dead bramble burning
on a neighbour's bonfire;
someone, bringing a message
had stopped to talk.
A perfectly ordinary winter afternoon,
misty, declining unnoticed
toward darkness.
Why did he never return?
Seasons ripened and fell, like apples
rotting among tall weeds;
flowerbeds and paths sank under
foaming seas of unkempt grasses;
in this far corner islanded,
cane and bramble flourished,
died and sprang green again,
accomplishing, presently,
an impenetrable, sharp thicket.
Perhaps the messenger
demanded an immediate answer,
the summons
admitted of no turning back.
Ever.
Copyright © Bernard Gilhooly - All Rights Reserved
One late November afternoon,
while clearing from a neglected corner,
of the old garden
a barbed-wire entanglement
of bramble and brown raspberry canes,
I found the fork,
upright, firm-pronged in the earth
where someone had thrust it,
how many years before?
The handle was split, the shaft
damp but not rotten.
Whose hand was imprinted
upon the smooth wood?
He had paused perhaps to fill a pipe.
Had caught the spicy woodsmoke scent
of leaves and dead bramble burning
on a neighbour's bonfire;
someone, bringing a message
had stopped to talk.
A perfectly ordinary winter afternoon,
misty, declining unnoticed
toward darkness.
Why did he never return?
Seasons ripened and fell, like apples
rotting among tall weeds;
flowerbeds and paths sank under
foaming seas of unkempt grasses;
in this far corner islanded,
cane and bramble flourished,
died and sprang green again,
accomplishing, presently,
an impenetrable, sharp thicket.
Perhaps the messenger
demanded an immediate answer,
the summons
admitted of no turning back.
Ever.
Copyright © Bernard Gilhooly - All Rights Reserved