Old Outhouse Poem by Sally Evans

Old Outhouse



Where bellwires tremble intermittently
and maids ran round the tradesmen's door to chat,
past sills where the old stables mouser sat,
and waxen, oily cooking-apples glowed
green and russet from stone and boarded floors
in cellars accessible from out of doors,
where bantams pecked at a dried loaf, where kail
heeled in, held its vigil of earthy produce
and early a peacock sunned his golden tail,
where always wrens and pigeons filled the ivy
and beds held marigold and thyme and sage,
in stepped grey rockeries made by a recluse
loitering among hummocks, typical of his age,
in the half-wrekcved gazebo served by bees,
snails eat the remaining saxifrage.


(1997)

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