30 May 2010

Famine Or Feast

Calling it a famine or a feast belies the
beast it really is; looking from the patio
one sees a wall of rain so dense that
commonsense denies the obvious

It’s wet out there – a pleasance when
compared with days so soaked in sun
you burned to husks irreverent, cursed
your luck and spurned a climate change

But then the cyclones came again the
way they used to do except their season
was delayed – and broken hearts were
laid in serried rows of garden cemeteries

The water rose and washed away all hope
of being saved, no semblance of a plan
proposed we’d benefit from this although
I’m sure some demiurge will disagree
© 3 March 2010, I. D. Carswell