Inclement is a funny word
That means, as we all well know,
Wet, Cold and Unpleasant
Maybe, bits of Snow

But, surely there’s more to England
Than just the inclement weather,
There’s Spring and Willows and Riverside
There’s bramble and there’s Heather,

The little purple, white and pink flowers
That on lowlands grow,
Prettier than the Alps, and
The mountains with the Snow.

Cherry Blossoms in Japan
And, Grape Hyacinths in U.K.
Daffodils and Wordsworth
All better than an O.K.

The Summer months and the Big Ben
The Tower of London too,
Not to forget the Bridges there
And, the Thames that runs so true.

The Palaces and the Castles
That lend it majesty,
A different kind of weather
Great moments from history.

The Sun its rays disperses
Through the gaps that it can find,
Inclement’s only a silly word
If sense is in the mind.

And, when it’s time for Winter
The hearth is what you desire,
A glass of Scotch and memory
And, the glowing bits of fire.

What and where is not Inclement
And, who discovered this word,
I’d be delighted, Ashok
To go and meet that Bird.

I hope it’s a Nightingale
Even, if it’s not Florence,
Must, I always dot the i’s and cross my t’s
Must I always make sense.

And anyway, whoever wants to make sense
Of Inclement English Weather,
Better things to do at Lords
Like hunting for the Leather.

So much is enough, I think
For the Inclement, English, Weather.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 40 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)