Post
by keithgood838 » Wed May 09, 2012 3:15 pm
Hi Eman, clearly Manila's love for Matt was warmly reciprocated.
Here in the south-east of England, Mother Nature seems to be
taking pleasure in playing her perverse tricks on us. Six weeks
into a hosepipe ban, the rainy weather continues unabated.
It is fascinating to observe the pained expressions on the faces
of newsreaders who tie themselves up in terminological knots
with such phrases as 'the ban stays in operation while the drought lasts'.
I think we can aver that the drought is over, but the water shortage persists.
On a serious note, and before this post morphs into Today's Joke,
it is sad to recall that Edward Thomas was yet another young poet
who perished in 'the terrible rain' of the Great War:
AFTER RAIN
The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
Of purple hue
Inside the border of bright green grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern
And the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Are twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
EDWARD THOMAS (1878-1917)
