and in the shop…
“The Plate Spinner”
All winter it lay dormant
dump for mud-caked boots and bikes
the summer things, garden forks, deckchairs
buckets and spades inert and clammy
the rest of the house withdrawn
into the sealed red dark of the back room.
What was it I liked so much –
the glass roof a trap for sky and insects
how the glass could make days longer
the weathered garden door leaking raw
spring air, the holiday feel
of doors being open, morning coming in
yellow and buzzing.
When it stifled
a place to escape through – best
in the halfway season
watching the rain fall
in big splashes, the smell
of wet mud from the balding lawn –
before entering the house again.