The Yew

The Sumac beside the  Yew, yellowing leaves      
proclaim a changing season and chilly nights      
curtains closed at half past four,roof tiles white.      
cast iron bird bath glazed and sparrows huddle,      
Black birds in the ivy on the garage,facing west      
warm from the charity of an evening sun.      
Time for all to take a rest,but we know best,        
burn the midnight oil,gas and apple logs,      
each year grumbles shared at the bar, doldrums      
until Christmastide or what-ever-tide,you wish.      
The Sumac changes as I write, yellows deepen      
terracotta soon to brighter reds cheering our hopes      
and fears of freezing pipes behind  closed curtains,     
while the Yew, green, as through the summer,      
calm, secure and evergreen and everlasting,silent,      
reassures another year will follow, crocuses return,      
the Sumac green again beside the Yew.