03/11/2026
From ladders high above the Wakefield rain,
I chase the autumn from the gutter's vein.
No castle view, no office chair for me,
Just moss and leaves and what the wind set free.
A SkyVac hums, a quiet, steady song,
Pulling the winter where it don't belong.
The sludge, the twigs, the black and sodden mat,
The tennis ball, the missing feathered hat.
I scoop it clean, I leave no trace behind,
Just water free to flow, just peace of mind.
For Lexie knows, a house must breathe and drain,
To stand up straight against the northern rain.
So here's to fascia white, to UPVC bright,
To gutters cleared before the fall of night.
No glamour in it, just an honest trade,
A roof kept dry, a proper job well made
