No Room For Complaint

Well, there’s no room for complaint, we’re finally 

getting rain we patiently waited for; of course its 

probably considered too little and too late by the 

dour farmland denizens whose plans may have 

been thwarted somewhat - but they’ll be goodly 

graced to disport and bear it - while plainly their 

stock will frolic with audacious glee that th’ flies 

are stymied in wet and graze more comfortably 

Then there’s me; while I don’t hold the high and 

mighty priorities of my stockholding neighbours 

I’m relieved too, the rain’s a tonic for graziers in 

true need of new growth at this time of the year; 

they may even be able to bale a bit for a winter 

now only a few months away, if they’ve a mind 

Out here we’re not blind to actual realities - it is 

easy to see what’s needed and provide aid; tho 

suffice to say, we’re of a kind who’ve chosen to 

stay in a space animating freedoms for being in 

intimate harmony with wider nature - & thus be 

freed suburbia’s anathematised mendacity 

© 5 January 2016, I. D. Carswell