I am of an age [very late 60s] to remember having to copy the teacher's drawings from the board into our exercise books. One of the one's that stays with me is of the water cycle. Education was by rote in those days.
THE WATER CYCLE
on his drawing the rain fell up
he did not give a fuck
for the teacher’s laboured explanation
or his laborious chalked illustration
they were forced copy
he simply had a need to see
the world as a place of wonder
where water could soar skywards
The [poem arrived complete. I like the way it does not take itself seriously. Although the end draws on the narrator's imagination. Thanks to Alison Wilson once again for the illustration. It's taken from The Wait Of Water, my latest collection.
I have been a fan of The Decemberists from the get go.
Until next time.
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