by Tony Goryn
There is virtually no good news to tell
while this continuous battering by wind
and rain blocks roads and cuts off villages.
Coastal lines are undermined by huge swells
of unbridles power, yet to break.
Unchained they charge repeatedly against
rock, both man-made and previously laid
down; plain floods reclaim Somerset's Levels.
Strategists sip filtered coffee behind
Bristol desks, their boots pristine, their pages
blank; as empty as politicians' words.
So this sustainability concept,
as far as can be seen, has transmuted
there and in London Town into an absurd
'so it goes'. Two pairs of new boots charade,
point fingers and quickly leave; clean clothed;
seen on parade. There can be no respect,
except for those who stay aboard, low paid
and honest. Sand-bags shifted, pipe-lines laid
by these and volunteers, day after day.
In the twin Cities of power and wealth
empty suits waddle about wondering
what comes next. Caught in a worry-flurry
each wordy one seeks not solution
that is sustainable, one that defines
what to protect and what to abandon;
but instead to cover their tracks, hurry
to find or hide blame, the thrust depending
solely on preservation of the self.
'We did all we could'; the result belies.