For weeks now the wind has been keening,
cascading its tears into creeks
sobbing small streams into torrents,
the torrents now springing small leaks.
Around us the rivers are rising,
wet-fisted they break sodden banks,
huddling the sheep in their paddocks,
drowning the grass round their shanks.
Floodwaters bury the highway
choking the freight and the fields
and pelicans thunder the sky-way,
casting their rods and their reels.
Some tricky words there. I wonder if you understood them all?
Keening – crying.
Torrent – is a fast moving stream.
Sodden – soaked through.
Shanks – legs.
Freight – goods carried by trucks.