our time of

in our time of unbending

never again in this city
will sea-waves beat on shingle

wharves and groynes will stand
in ruins against the longshore drift

in our time of diminishing

never again in this house
will sun cast its shadows

glass will shatter and doors hang
open to the rain before the end

in our time of going

never again by this road
will any river run its course

wheels will spin as the wind
turns easterly and cold

in our time of lamention

never again in this generation
will dry land give up its tears

machinery will grind in its sand
and rust in the last of nightfall

in our time of withering

never again on this planet
will tomorrow bring us a mirror;

dirges of weather and climate
clamour for change

our time of reckoning

© BH, 2021

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Despair at the future as the year turns. Could be a wake-up call; could be another dirge no-one hears. Nuff said…