February Rain

February rain - 2014

I like the soft rain that gently bathes 

my tired skin with liquid silk.

I like the full blown lazy rain softly emptying

its wide spaced drops into the pool

where six humped golden orfe wheel and play, 

timid tadpoles hide amongst the reeds

and pale water lilies shimmer in the gentle shower.

I like the tough regimented squalls that beat

a brisk reveille on rusting tin roofs

of old allotment huts, summoning their owners away

to the comfort of the pub and their noon day pint.

I like the anxious hurrying rain

sweeping undeterred across the high moor, 

flattening the purple heather into a deep carpet,

replenishing warm languorous streams

who sing through the summer 

in an unique rustic chorus with the the watery trill    

of the chic white and black ring ouzel,

and the elegant grey merlin’s imperious screech.

I like the fine mizzle and the silent mists of October

that caress the Fluted White camellia, 

cloak with liquid lace the purple Autumn crocus

and weave a glistening crown around a dark red rose.

But … 

The meandering Jet Stream has plunged deep south, 

and sharply swung north again, like a great cosmic ribbon

swirling madly above the ocean, bundling together

unending storms of bitter rain and cruel gales.

Today’s icy downpour stings skin and eyes,

scythes through the sunshine gold japonica,

shatters the simple beauty of the gentle hellebore,

and pulps the last head of the blue hydrangea.

It brings flood and devastation to land and coast,

houses inundated, winter crops laid waste,

pastures six feet under water, stock drowned.

As rivers undredged burst through their crumbling banks

and old sea walls are swept away by wind and tide, 

power lines fall victims to unremitting storms,

and thousands endure long cold and cheerless days.

While politicians and public servants wrangle,

men and women count the terrible cost

of homes destroyed, livelihoods and lives 

lost to the inevitable coming of this

festival of unholy ruin.

And I begin to see how powerless 

we have become in the face of this, our world’s chaos 

which we ourselves have done so much to cause.

May God and our children forgive us.

Naomi