The swelling clouds, caped with
arrogance, paced
along a sobbing sky as wet, as
waste,
as mourning; care gathered the
earth; a race
of water came, thick, swirling through
reed-mace,
drowning grasses, flinging down
loop and pool
to lure the eye, establishing its
rule
with silver drapes drifting
wantonly, spread
over fields bared by winter, sewn
with bread
if the sad, sunk rows could
live. Cold-heart earth
lay plundered, raped, each green
thread yellowed. Dearth
stalked. The field-fare rose in a sudden fear,
shunned the cold trees, wheeled
against rain to steer
towards clear upland weather; a
wet hare
jumped, flinching, ran a race,
seemed not to care.
(March,
1990)
Note -
This poem is in rhyming couplets in which there is an
anagram of each end word(s) in the
earlier part of the same line.
