An Ill Wind

.

It leaves the mountains covered in snow

And dumps its rain beside the hills,

Filling near-empty dams but

Causing flooding in the dells.

.

This wind echoes the sound of the sea

A thousand miles in its wake,

But the land in the east is dry as a bone

And there’s naught its thirst to slake.

.

Warm and snug in bed I lie,

Thinking of those who, unlike I,

Huddle under the cold black sky

And I wonder, ‘Why?’

.

© Denise G Allen 15 July 2012 06:07