Books by Ian Rogers
Books by Ian Rogers
We’ve sent a little satellite
to spy upon the sun
And give us forward warning
of things that are to come;
Of solar flares from our nightmares,
of solar winds and storms,
So we can shut our power grids down
and keep ourselves from harm.
“Too little sun”, the tourists moan:
“It’s hardly worth us going.”
The pubs are full, the beer brings cheer,
at least the yeast keeps growing.
The hopeful faithful eye the beach,
building sand castles in the air.
Oh for a little bit of sun -
then we could be out there.
“Tomorrow there’ll be sunshine”
the forecaster predicts -
A little bit of solar balm
for our solar powered itch.
Let’s get a tan so when its gone
we’ll still be brown for days.
We must get out, enjoy the sun,
soak up some UV rays.
The beaches, once deserted,
are now packed out with folk,
In scantiest of clothing
to catch a UV soak -
But a sunny disposition
stops others feeling blue
And a bit of inner sunshine
will warm us all year though.