In our trial

The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry
As dark clouds weep  onto this angry isle
The garden’s still and no birds want to fly

The summer sinks and autumn  enters wry.
The media  are full of truth and bile
The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry

I sit and look and do not want to sigh
For there is beauty of another style
The garden’s still and no birds seem to fly

When bad things happen, people wonder why
Yet we are humans evil  hearts beguile.
The sun umbrella keeps the washing  dry

In  our temptations, envy seems to grow
Yet those we watch  may suffer even more.
The garden’s still and no birds seem to fly

The rules that kept us social have expired
And so we rage at others in our trial.
The sun umbrella keeps the powder  dry.
The gardens  dead  and no birds ever fly