July evening

Green watering can

As light as it is hard-engineered,

Green plastic and moulded

Wide-bottomed and spouted

to taper two gallons in constant discipline,

Precisely to the earth where it is most needed.

How many have been made to this particular design –

One thousand? One hundred million?

Their pattern is Greek or Egyptian, but this can is watering England

And dark sound to me through the filling hole,

Hosed water hisses cream, then fizz,

Builds a green depth, bulking

Mass and pulling down my hand,

Tightening the white flesh between my watch strap and my elbow.

I think: glorious, this tug of cool water in a can!

A warm wind off the Plain, the full water spouting now into

Earth smells, dust sadly

Clattering itself in local tsunamis against

Broad beans, and runners.

Potatoes. Strawberries. Gooseberries.



Say the word,


And tell me life is not wonderful.

3 thoughts on “July evening

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