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
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