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A weathercast
 

A weathercast of human life,

From 9am and overnight,

A complex chart of highs and lows,

Occluded fronts and bright rainbows.

 

A deep depression overhead,

A squally night, a misty bed,

But soon a cooler wiser head,

Will know what stuff to leave unsaid.

 

A cotton frock in jeopardy,

There's movement in the mercury,

The field is warm, a love nest found,

The cotton frock's been up and down.

 

But soon there's thunder in the air,

A zip, a jacket, shoes and hair,

Big blobs of rain, a weather flash,

'Cotton frock in cornfield dash.'

 

Meanwhile, a church in begging mode,

A mile of pennies down the road,

They chose the day by guessing game,

Whilst the weather glass said change and rain.

 

The roof it leaked, the tower it leant,

Big buckets in the north transept,

When counting came the church looked shocked,

There'd truly been an act of God.

 

A penny wrapped in paper found,

A cheque for near ten thousand pound,

Who could it be, they racked their brains?

A cotton frock dashed by and waved...

 

© Joseph G Dawson