dying garden

Sparrow in November sun
sunflower skeleton wizened
and wicket garden gate
a brittle, gray ribcage around
the loam and ground
yellowing leafbed to keep
warm the earth
where nesting seedlings cuddle
beneath watchful eye -
scarecrow
and November sparrow.

High grass tufts
tickling thickets
crickets and locusts silent and still
in pale November chill.
these hem the edges
of my dying garden.
piles of apples, soft and brown
pumpkins puddling into ground
to be tilled
with cabbage paddles
and viney squash tentacles
dill stalks
and whispering corn canes.
the sparrows of November
and a breathing sky
the keepers watch my garden die.

Midwinters deep
is soon to slip
down from foothills
with morning crisp frost
and hard, icey nights and stars
and snows will
still and silence
what was November

And I
am to remember
that gardens die.