At Four O'Clock This Afternoon Poem by Pete Crowther

There’s a V-shaped gap where the tall hedge parts
By the garden gate and it frames a view
Of a sycamore tree with a field beyond.
In summer there’d be a herd of cows
But it’s empty now — just a bare-branched tree
And the high green bank of an estuary.
At four o’clock this afternoon
Behind the tree and above the bank
I saw the sun about to set
Orange-red in a plain grey sky.
The world for a moment then was just
A setting sun, a leafless tree,
A field, a river bank, and me.