By Rae Desmond Jones

the moving finger taps then hits save,
i send it on email.

europe slips into crisis
not for the first or last time.

is this the rise of Asia,
the fall of Western Rome?

my father went down the mines in 1931-
he might have been an accountant.

a hungry future
whispers through my dreams.

outside in the dark rain old eucalypts bend
then spring back,

droplets spit at my window
& dribble to feed the fertile dirt.

there are many refugees lost in this storm –
they are human, as are we.

Rae Desmond Jones is an aged former politician & troublemaker. He has written 8 books of poetry & has taken to writing ghazals …..