Another apocalyptic poem.
It is springs from real life. I recently moved and when it rained on Saturday night I awoke to find a pool of water by my back door. The moss that grows on the roof has been washed down the guttering and had blocked the drain.
I shall know for the future…
However it led to this.

the foretelling
every time it rains moss from off the roof
tumbles down the gutter to block the drain
and faced with a pool of still water
am required to plunge my hand
into its rippling surface
and pull wet velvet from the cast iron grid
if humans disappeared tomorrow
this house would flood in a single solar cycle
then slowly fall in on itself
and no one would remain to witness
the world becoming something else
our brief aberration ceased

I actually think it is about there. Which is unusual for me at the moment as most of the poems I write are definitely works in progress.
I was listening to Anthem In Eden last night. What an enduring achievement of English folk music. Some kind person has posted the whole song suite-happy listening.

And if that is not enough here is Polly On The Shore.

Until next time.