Evenings

while I sit in the garden, nothing in the world to write, your shade sits calmly on the patio, reading  or dozing, or ear-phones in watching videos about guitar pedals. he’s enjoying the cool air and idleness, he makes the perfect man of leisure, as  you would have done.

and so I carry him from garden to garden, seeing much more of the evening garden than I used to, and I write  to animate the thought that I’m spending this evening  as I should have all the others