1047(A)  Oxford Fragments

There's rain in Oxford - and I'm unprepared.

Even though the forecast warned of rain,

I listened, but it seemed I haven't heard

There's rain in Oxford.

The buses are re-routed yet again

So getting back may raise a naughty word,

While, just as likely to make me profane,

Both Ask and Bella Italia are immured

By Whoopie Goldberg groupies, all insane

For Sister Act - and I am not insured

For rain in Oxford.

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Is the Trojan War a Bronze Age fight

Which the later Homer simplified

To mythical events, taking the side

Of Iron Age barbarity and might?

And should we read a real nobility

Into the Trojans as they stand before

The Mycenaeans' on a raiding spree

To smash and vandalise what was adored?

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Overnight rain steaming in the sun

          Glistening cobwebs on the gate,

          Misty patches, lingering late;

Autumn's gentle magic has begun.

But a rat lies in the driveway, paddling air,

          It's throat torn out by some night predator

          And on the Oxford bypass, a dead deer;

No respite from nature's bloody law.

Brian Hick November 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 27.11.23