This month's poem was chosen by last month's winner, Dave Dunn. Dave says, "I  found myself returning to read this poem over a couple of times, attracted by the diverse and vivid imagery that Graham employed throughout to great effect."

Find out more about Graham and his work at http://www.writeoutloud.net/poets/grahamsherwood

La Tuilliere

Below us, early fodder in black plastic coats
shines wet like stepping-stones
amidst the wavering stream of new seasons’ grass,
a languorous “brish” through healthy leaves
from quill-shaped poplars
that bow and nod in breathy sighs to the south.
Unseen crows, distant, squabble behind a copse,
as newly washed denims damply walk to nowhere
on the sagging line.
Little fingers chase butterflies
they skate like kites across the clover grass
haphazard to no clear destination,
all watched by suspicious frogs
invisible amongst the duckweed carpet of the pond.
Young fathers tease their boys with footballs
just as men have always done, and will,
in dark green shadow
a lonely hammock rocks like flotsam near the ivy wall.
Red chequered tablecloths idly billow
as the afternoon begins to warm,
and left alone the pendulous rope-swing stops the hours
until the next excited child appears,
to play around the timeless henge
of olive-amber stones around the cooling barbecue.