chattels

As if breathing:
bowl, tin, and watering can,
with volumes, shadows, proximities,
all of their own
seem to be looking at us.
Just garden chattels:
it’s a legal matter:
part of the estate,
not fixed, they can go with their owner,
unless their owner goes,
and leaves them in the shed.
Bereft. It’s November
with faint smoke from bonfires, rust
on incremental leaves, frost,
silver condensation on the glass.
Through the eye or camera,
lens lifting up the edge
for a moment, we notice.
There’s such a stillness here
we feel compelled
to make of it what we can.

... and you certainly did that Steve !