If my house backed on to a sportspark

At quarter past ten, it gets dark.
I watch the flood lights blink out in turn
because my garden backs on to a sports park.

The outdoor climbing wall is a useful landmark
some of the time. Living round here, you quickly learn:
at quarter past ten, it gets dark.

When I have visitors they sometimes remark
about the convenient location or ask me how much I earn
because my garden backs on to a sports park.

Dogs on my street have become referees; they start to bark
and the footballers know it will soon be time to adjourn.
At quarter past ten, it gets dark.

At six in the morning, the runners embark.
I watch their lunar loop and return
because my garden backs on to a sports park.

When a javelin disappears, halfway across its shallow arc,
it is none of my concern;
at quarter past ten, it gets dark
because my garden backs on to a sports park.