Ethnographic Moment

This is Carolina The northern member of the clan The weather is in a terrible state: All day rain, white walls of it Holding me like a cattle to wait And if this constant nattering Does not stop I shall have enough to rue Alone at the end of day ... with you. Little lakes of memories Are bubbling in brooks of street Now ... water killed the flower beds The petals have left the barren stems O I miss the sea of yellows and reds I miss the blooming of my rems The rain falls with no strategy For what is the use Since I have planted nothing here What psychology is this That fails so to amend us Who see nothing as our terminus How dangerous is that Leaving not even trust in a spot Still dry for common gifts of mercy The rain is a long wait The bubbles muddle and break In puddles of a littered lake This is North Carolina The beginning, not the terminus