Council

Morning brings rain that

Fills in the potholes in our road

Dislodging detritus and creeping

Insidiously between the firmament

And cold, dark winter soil

We survive by dodging

This way and that

Riding the edge of what remains

We pay for repair but

Where has the money gone

Certainly not back in to the ground

Buried like treasure

By a man who took pleasure

In taking it from you

We are the multitude

And our needs are voracious

We will never be sated

Much less placated

Thoughts

There has been signs of hope in the air. The sun is peaking out and the sky can be seen. But before you know it, the rain appears. We have the problem of our roads to deal with but I am grateful that they are not craters. My thoughts are with all those in our world who are under attack.

Monument to Rembrandt – Amsterdam council on the ball.