Reverse Vineyard.(Poem)

 
REVERSE VINEYARD 
 
   I climb over the low wall. 
   Every stone is warm. 
   It's been sunny all night 
   like those negatives left unprinted 
   for thirty years, everything in reverse-- 
   the orange sky, white vines 
   with lilac leaves. 
   Halfway up the steep path 
   our vanished hut comes into view, 
   wobbling in the haze 
   like a photo in the developing tray. 
   But it's back to front and left to right, 
  ...