This Winter

Poem by me, illustration by daughter. Some of the formatting has taken on a life of its own. Oh well.

This winter, we wade in paddy fields
With no rice.
I’ve never known the land like it
In my lifetime
Which grows longer, every minute.
Whether I do, or don’t.
It’s the only thing I know how to measure
As, relentless, hungry
We power up our earth’s atmosphere
Shooting carbon atoms into the sky.



Thickly-iced polar vortices spun by
Fatal fingers slam down the east coast

And purple heatwaves head south

Lost in smoke. And above the clouds

Clear air turbulence
Lurks invisible between every isobar
Waiting to send your in-flight meal, flying
And, still, some people wonder,
What any of this has to do with them…
Whilst in England
We wade in paddy fields.

Posted on January 18, 2014, in Art, Be not idle, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Well, sitting on the table was a huge Birthday Cake from Coach O’Toole, his assistants and the young men I have the privilege to report on in the winter – the 2013-14 Saint Ignatius Varsity Basketball Team.

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