I drove up to the hill out of my village,
the further up I got, the thicker the mist.
I turned left, and bumped into the fog!
The fields of Oil Seed Rape had looked
almost romantic in the mist!
Now, had disappeared, hidden by fog.
As I reached the top of the hill, no fog!
The green Farmers fields were there
his private airfield was still there.
Suddenly, I was in the misty rain, with
windscreen wipers flip, flopping.
It was more like autumn weather.
What is wrong with our weather?
“They” talk about Climate Change
all the time, are we really experiencing it?
Why can’t Spring be Spring?
It was when I was a child, we knew
Where we were with the weather then….
© Marjorie Lacy.
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