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Fri 31 Jan, 2003 12:44 am
She stoops wind chilled against the blast,
Her native home dull embered.
Grey leaden skies their shadows cast,
and dim her veld remembered.
Yet ice snaps bring not gun shots dread,
Nor English damp their staining,
She sleeps sound safe in foreign bed,
South Africa her waning.
(Some late night thoughts about a South African colleague experiencing her first British winter).
fresco, It seems to me that she's talking about more than 'climate change.' '
c.i.
Yes. Is it called "poetic lie-sense" ?
Fresco
Very nice!
Do you have any more?
Thanks for the encouragement jjorge !
Very little these days ! I compiled a few several years ago in a folder I called Tractatus Poetico-Philosophicus (a parody of Wittgenstein's Tractatus) which I will try to dig out.
Regards fresco.
Getting back to the subject of "climate change," here's a very good article from the Brits.
http://www.antarctica.ac.uk/Key_Topics/Climate_Change/Climate_Change_Position.html
c.i.
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