Early morning dread,
too much wine last night
remembering the coldest night of all.
It was the year of brutal winter,
first crisp Christmas snow gently fell;
then it rained for two days
and the chill came,
everything froze,
water pipes, ponds, rivers and lakes
even the narrow stretch of water
leading to the island
where the rich had their sailing boats.
The local newspaper asked
the oldest person in the town
if she could remember any year that cold?
She couldn’t (the oldest is always a woman)
but pointed to a jet plane’s vapour
and blamed modern time
upsetting nature’s balance.
Brother came home drunk
in righteous anger I told him to leave,
he did; outside he slipped on icy pavement
hit his head and two hours later, dead.
Those accusing eyes by the graveside,
why didn’t you let him sleep it off on the sofa?
Haunted by a town’s silence I left,
but didn’t escape the guilt,
at dawn the dread wants me to pay the price!