11.9.15 As soft as a ditch

  

Noone's lived there for at least 50 years, the old brick house slowly crumbling with the weight of gravity, down toward the ground.

The beautiful fancy-pattern brickwork slipping here and there, the chimney soft as a ditch, what with all the creatures inhabiting the place all year round. 

    

And out in the yard, you see the beautiful Maples someone carefully selected, some years ago, and the bushes, that now have grown wide and furiously, so that all the rabbits can live quietly and happily in the long low-lying branches. 

    

 

The low pathway round the back fills with water in the spring, and then deep with fallen leaves in the autumn,

 as the place observes quietly the comings and goings of the seasons, of the sunrises and settings, in betwixt and between small mountains, a river, farmer fields, the Eagles and the soft wild winds.