Those who treat black cloud as nemesis
Must have somehow farewelled memory
Of dust to dust
And ash to ash
And must have also been allowed to shirk
Their everyday thanks for where they now stand.
With this disdain comes ignorance of the fact:
It is this very holy release…
(That sings to me
Drumming on tin
And sustains my breath
Like a nana’s lullaby)
…that selflessly offers them the luxury
Of laughing in sunshine again.