Morning 6

Jun. 29th, 2016 09:43 am
[personal profile] pomes
On the morning of the sixth grey day
For a while the clouds are blown away;
Clouds massing overhead and heavy rain,
Then in the sunshine children briefly play.
Friends online and in the street keep talking;
Fear and hope; despair; determination:
Heads down against the rain like children walking
We're waiting for sun. We grow impatient.
We don't know where we are or what we're doing
Cyclonic eye or rising flood or quake
Which tide of answers we should be pursuing
Nor how soon the dams are going to break
Perhaps if we're all talking there together
Someday something somewhere will get better?

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pomes

September 2016

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