(For Andrew)
The garden feels a restless breeze,
the chickens know, and huddle near,
feathers fluffed in ruffled unease,
as the driving force changes gear,
shifts towards a new direction,
the air breathes out a wistful fear,
relentless change scorns objection,
time imposes its sad goodbye,
spurns the aura of dejection,
welcomes over red carpets sigh
their footfalls for today alone,
as the church on the hill stands by,
its yesterdays were set in stone,
tomorrow foretells the unknown.
