November Muses by Roger Roberts

Tasteless Slush Puppy drizzle swirls in eddies in garden recesses. In the compost corner, one heap is diminished to a fifth of its original size. Under the old carpet is a friable, dark mixture of last year’s harvest of death; on top, protected by the high wooden sides and covered in leaves, is a collection of black plastic pots of narcissi labelled and pandered to for the local spring show.

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Peter Cooke