Saturday, 22 February 2014

A Postcard from Noah

After seeing a sadly marooned postbox surrounded by flood waters, I penned this. I can't help feeling that people are forgetting those poor people flooded out now that the rains have stopped. The waters are still there, but all the news agencies have moved on to the next story. That's something that gives me much disquiet, the way the media jump on a story, and then discard it, while people are still picking up the pieces and getting to grips with living with flood waters.

A Postcard from Noah
Flood waters high above the land
Once meadows, now just a lagoon
Bounded by hedgerows. But no sand:
Only the white reflection of the moon
Day comes, and still the waters remain
And a raven in flight searches for  land
A wistful bird song, as it seeks in vain
As if an angry god stretched out a hand
The pillar box is there, along a river bank
Of what was once a road, for passers by
No letters posted here, where cars sank
The dove goes out, but the tide is high
Postcards from Noah, what would they say?
Build an ark tomorrow, or leave today.

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