Noticing

There were times
When we passed by
The medlars, the roses, the cherry trees
And hornbeam;
It seemed that she would live forever,
Holding her treasures of flower and leaf
In her big gloved hands
That benign and sometimes faraway look
Light upon her face.

But she is no longer here.
Or there.
And the early autumn rains fall without her.
And the blue tits and the woodpeckers feed
Unnoticed by her.
And she was a good noticer.

All that noticing now is left unnoticed,
As if the little corners of the world
She thought helplessly to bring to light,
In the pell mell tumble of her being,
Superconsciously alive,
Have fallen back into shadows.