Latest poem from the Weather Bureau, echoing MANY local sentiments.
Soft comes the night, hoping the weeping willow smiles.
Do you call this a cruel summer? Fill in the blank space.
In another fortnight, heat will be a memory.
I want lavender haze of such evenings; but I shake it off.
As I’m the anti-hero, so will our weather be.
Polistra's Mill 