I walk across the ocean towards Honfleur
on ice that was not here a week ago.
How have we irked the deities to incur
such weather extremes? First jungle heat, now snow.
My chance of seeing Dover again is so low
that I won’t know personally if England is still there
like it used to be. I’d hare off somewhere
secure in the knowledge that I could come back
to the green and pleasant land. Starving seabirds stare
at the frozen surface and the sun turns black.

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