Hunger drove him from that dark corner
to gaze across neat rows,
antidote to the chaotic shed
where he’s sheltered from snow.
Early winter’s sown with ordering hands,
absent now beneath duvet or early morning dressing gown.
Only he communed with darkening greens,
peering past a snow flake drifting down.
He pulled a leaf free, chewed. Juice in his throat.
Pulled his threadbare coat across his frame
Grey clouds stained sullen skies, sleet turned to rain