By Stan Galloway
Children playing circle games
look at the sky and chant:
Rain, rain, go away!
Thunder built for months, years
rumbles threatening to strike
everyone thinking it will crack and pass.
Rain, rain, go away!
Once the storm starts
time for preparing is passed
umbrellas useless against missiles.
Rain, rain, go away!
Shame on those who did not see it coming
said the storm has changed course, no longer a threat
failed to remember storms from before.
Rain, rain, go away!
Shame on those who stand to the side
say they’re sorry you are getting wet,
crushed and dying.
Here we go round the mulberry bush
on a cold and frosty morning.
If you were part of our club
if you didn’t sound so foreign
then, maybe, we would have helped.
Ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey
ashes ashes we all fall down.
Stan Galloway writes from the hills of West Virginia. He is the founder of Pier-Glass Poetry as well as the author or editor of 9 anthologies/books/chapbooks of poetry, including ‘Just Married’ (Unbound Content, 2013).
