XXV
All through the summer months
Sacrifices are made
To the ancient weather gods
Asking for their aid.
Our altars we call "barbecues"
They come in many sizes
And from these votive offering sites
A pall of thick smoke rises.
We don't sacrifice live creatures
We're too civilised for that -
We buy expensive cuts of meat
And burn them sooty black.
The smoke gets in our eyes
There are midges in our hair-
But we must do our duty
In the chilly evening air.
If it should be raining
We hold it just the same,
Meths. and an umbrella aid
The sacrificial flame.
After we have eaten
Our blackened piece of meat
We hope the gods will grant us
Fine weather all next week.
Tewkesbury -
To Eunice
1.8.1989
