Limericks for this season of “hurl[ing] the little streets upon the great”

Sometimes in the morning light
The raven follows the eagle’s flight
And lesser feathered fowl like me
Slowly savour our morning tea.
And note the passing of the night.

When dreams are few and the night is long
And the days unclaimed by the patient throng
It’s good to see the eagle fly
Harried by ravens that sound the sky
Crying shame upon the strong.



semesterProtestGovernments are so often
Like blossoming pear trees.
I learnt this when I stood
One silent white summer
And thought of James Wright.
“Perfect, beyond my reach,
How I envy you.” he wrote.
“For if you could only listen,
I would tell you something,
Something human.” It smote
My just cause into dust. Trusting,
The petitioner stands, missing,
Often, the point of her own protest.
The government is not Yeats’s
“Great rooted blossomer”. The jest
Is on the trees, when you learn
That it is the heat, not the shade,
That frees.