TheBanyanTree: Indian Ocean Summer

[Gail Richards]

You've done a very good job of getting the HEAT!!!  It's not QUITE cold 
enough here yet for me to truly appreciate this fully!  I'll have to read it 
again in January.  And February.  Maybe March.

-----Original Message----- 
From: Woofess
Sent: Wednesday, December 19, 2012 3:18 AM
To: A comfortable place to meet other people and exchange your own 
*original*writings.
Subject: TheBanyanTree: Indian Ocean Summer


          Summer... that is wot is on me mind at the moment! I hate
          summer in Wozland! City and surburban idjits here love it, cuz
          they have no comprehension that heat and no rain means
          everything dries up and we are short of water for drinking.
          That's because they are cocooned in their ignorant city
          shells, where they think that incubating melanoma by squatting
          in the Indian Ocean is the pinnacle of living.

          Give me powdery snow and glittery icicles any day!

          Anyhows, today has been particularly crappy for various
          reasons, so I was distracting meself by looking at old files
          stored on me drives here and found this pome I writ when I
          still had a few synapses... hmmm.. where did all them synapses go?

          (Indian) Summer Irony
          --------------------

          Air con
          Thataps a busy jig,
          Self-important
          In its noisy bombast
          The alien sound
          In this still,
          Ancient, harsh
          And unforgiving land.

          Flowers,
          Heads bowed
          In abject worship
          Of the God-Sun.
          Lips parched,
          Tongues hanging out,
          Begging water,
          In limp defeat.

          Blue gum
          Arrays herself
          In dangling
          Question marks,
          That twirl languidly
          In the silently,
          Thrumming,
          Blister-hot air.

          Splendid Blue Wrens
          Huddle amongst
          The scanty ascii
          Of Blue Gum's vest,
          Not daring to speak.
          Begging asylum
           From the God-Sun's
          Far-seeking probes.

          Bare ground
          Brazenly,
          Shed of its habit,
          Shimmer-dances wildly.
          White tongues waving
          To lick the unwary
          Feet with poker darts
          Of hot ice pain.

          Prostrate hounds
          Share shade
          With lifeless cats
          Patiently awaiting
          The end to stillness
          By a zephyr
          Or the God-sun's
          Daily ministrations.

          Rushing meat ants,
          Groomed and glossy,
          Defy the God-Sun.
          Pause not to pray,
          But hurry faster
           From here to there,
          Oblivious to God-Sun's
          Omnipotent rays.

          And I?
          Sit by the window,
          Smiling inwardly,
          As I look
          Into my glass
          And see
          Only the glacier,
          Waiting within.

          Woof, hunting for more ice in the fridge...

-- 

Best regards,

Woofie

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"The one constant in life is absurdity" - Woofie - 30/4/02

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