The Storm Rages On.

Water seeped into the doors

and waterways filled to

overflowing, pasting

excrement and fifth

on clean painted walls

littering a home with 

the dross of human living.


Trees toppling on tiles

and roofs of racers breaking,

using their bank balances

and singling out the shoddiness

of builders long gone.

Gardeners losing control of

blossoms, battered and bewildered.


We build our defenceless homes,

on flood planes, imagining nature

will be kind to us by listening 

to our pleas, each of

us pretending that weather

is ours to control and master,

not to befriend.


The storm rages on inside of us,

begetting hatred for the 

awesome wonders that 

surge on a seashore or

flow majestically through

our countryside, and the 

willow bowing to the wind.


We have long forgotten

that we are nature too.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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