Funny how it always seems to work out fine

We flooded out the field in Okayama

and stood looking on with the kids and the dog. 

We were happy, because we didn't know we could have other lives. 

But when I look from this angle I see our bind. 

Our criss-cross blacktop roads, like runways.

Our bridges, rough concrete splodges. 

Our brimful run-off gutters. 

Everything is flooded. 

If a stork comes to perch, I don't pay much attention.