A narrowboat upon a narrowing
canal: it and the water
strewn by fallen
leaves
doing text book
autumn colours
partly obscuring
towpaths
clumped over
by grass piled up
all layered as good
compost
while
further back
beeches shimmer blotchily.
It is the illusion of the garden;
unsustainable apart; but part of
something outside, which is undepicted:
his lordship's labourers, perhaps;
the motorway;
or the edge of a new estate.
This view encourages new ideas' growth
and the weak refusal now to learn old truths
while familiar sights are calmly fetishised
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