The gods responsible for weather
just need to get their act together
our warmer days that did not last
now seem a dream from distant past
the summer solstice ought to be
a time for basking by the sea
but we’re beset by wind and rain
and winter clothes are out again
the outdoor parties, barbecues
have transformed into indoor dos.
If you expect a Christmas crowd
be warned – eighteen degrees with cloud
I guess we can be glad because
we do not suffer heat like Oz
no celebrating over there
they’ve fires and smoke and choking air
I can’t imagine what I’d do
with daily highs of forty-two
while living in a state of fear
because the bushfires might come near.
Across the ditch are people who
have lost their home and neighbours too
their P.M. won’t admit the cause
might be related to his laws
and as their towns burn to a cinder
the Aussies covet our Jacinda
Great poem, ruth. Your rhymes are getting sharper. Love the last couplet; the rhyme falls into place easily.
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Thanks, Juliet. I’m sure you’ve heard, as I have, friends in Australia envious of our having such an amazing Prime Minister, especially compared to theirs.
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Ruth you are darling with the words and rhythm.
You’re on fire in a good way.
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