VIP forum

The drumming of the rain
quiet but relentless
pulls me away
from this overcrowded,
stifling,
airless room –
to drenched fields
dotted with sodden sheep,
paddocks sheeted
with shining water
and dams filled to overflow.

I can barely hear
these men in suits,
as they talk,
and talk,
about rankings
about impact
about dollars
about ambition.

Because outside,
I can hear the land
bursting with green,
under the giving sky.

I wrote this a few months ago, about a week before the COVID shutdown, while sitting in a forum on the future of the organisation. After months of dry heat, it finally rained, pummelling the roof above us. I stopped taking notes about impact and metrics, and wrote this instead. 

Leave a comment

Filed under poem, rants

Comments? Feedback?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s