After the last disdainful condescension termed a
drop of rain its at it again - perhaps a mite better
this time; there’s no deranged downpour, just th’
steady drizzle we liken t’ having Heaven’s liquor
poured in th’ right & proper place getting best of
a beatified blessing, and with no dreaded waste
Yet I still hear a grizzling from where those auto-
bahn constituencies complain ‘our Motorway’s a
death trap in the wet’; I could say - it isn’t for me
because I don’t play at driving then; so where th’
analogy fails is up in the air spelled by their utile
definition of what is plaguing their convenience
Best I keep the peace - but I seem to remember
a wet spell not too far back when flooding hit th’
headlines with a vengeance; - weren’t too many
whinges back then, highways were closed - and
from memory stayed so until the floods receded
after 4 - 5 days; now its a drizzled-upon history
But out here in th’ styx we’re resting at ease; no
crazy streams gouging out new floodplains, our
sense of security gains upper hand and without
insurance reps plagiarising from those dramatic
and defaulted claims o’ legendary causality - so
we relax into the Nirvana of soft, growing green
© 10 May 2017, I. D. Carswell
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