Morning has broken

As the climate becomes less and less hospitable to us, as the drought continues - it is like opening an over door in daytime, here is a poem which is an inversion of a well-known hymn, in a time where there is, for us, little dew fall fresh every morning, and no wet gardens.

Morning has broken

Morning has broken, like the last morning
Comes now the hot sun, before the first bird
Come now the heat-wave, hornets are singing
Death to the bees now, that is their word

No more the rainfall, hell more than heaven
Thirsty the dry soil, yellow the grass
Flowers are dying, in every garden
Brown is the grassland, where our feet pass

Here is more sunlight, once more the morning
Too hot for working, too hot for play
Time of exhaustion, now every morning
Long is the heat wave, enduring each day

Morning has broken, like the last morning
Famine is threatening, no rain is heard
Pray for the rainfall, heed now the warning
Harsh is the climate, that’s the last word.