Empty Seat

On the northern edge
of Devon's Strete
on a fine day
this seat is neat
but in mad March gales
between showers
you'd not stay a minute
never mind hours.

Their backs to the view
the daffodils bend
in the force of the wind
at the village end.
Each head is bowed
full flower or bud
to passing cars
and puddled mud.

poem © Celia Warren 2015