With the prospect of rain,
Portentous and grey,
Fussing like a broody hen,
Then letting fall,
Gentle at first like welcome,
Lightening and thunder to follow.
Soon, it is comforter no longer,
Torrents tearing through suburbs,
The ground beneath you a river.
You will swim in the shallows,
Get sucked down into drains,
Listing out into the sea
To be fish bait,
Prey to tentacles and teeth,
Eternal return to our birthplace:
From the sky to the sea.
This is why our children wander -
The sea is blue and free -
And inevitably why they wonder:
What waits down there for me?
© shaun patrick green 2017
