The Granta

A/N: This really isn't a poem, more a structured string of observations and thoughts on the cycle of human interaction. At a pub.

So much can change from night to day

From one bank to the other

The pouring rain turns, making way for baking sun and a cool breeze.

Drunken bragging and fighting ends

And the strains of a simple tune float across the meadow

Anger turns to laughter

Confusion to clarity

As the sun slowly dips below the horizon

And the wind blows harder and stronger

The heat stays within, fuelling the anger

Another day is over

One day less to be at peace

One day closer to complete release

As the moon rises the insanity peaks

The excuses flow with the ale.

Questions, doubts, fears are revealed.

Only to be settled when the sun returns.