Poetry by D.W. Walker

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This is a description of my back yard during construction of an extension.

Martian Landscape

It is not scorched earth with life-giving ash
But hard ground, layered yellow, grey and black,
Glistening in the late afternoon sun,
Scattered with lumps of deep red, brown and grey,
Some square, some angular, some rounded,
Their long purple shadows pointing to nothing.

There was water here once,
Raindrops cutting pits, pools and runnels.
It is gone now,
Leaving only white salt crusts, black high tide marks
And that hard reflective sheen.

There is life here, in a small hollow,
A green five o'clock shadow,
Spindly leaves pushing upwards
In hope for the future, perhaps,
Through blind stupidity, or just giving it a go.

But at seven thirty the next morning,
The builders return to finish their work.

Copyright © D.W. Walker, 1999

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