It Has Rained All Day Poem by Gert Strydom

It has rained all day
with water pouring from the sky
after the Southeaster ripped at our tent
causing the canvas to flap about
and the rain came sieving in,
in this grey July Cape winter.

It's chilly cold with snow
falling on the mountains
and being called up for this camp
as a citizens force special force unit
being accountants, lawyers
and doing whatever job

we are tented in the middle
of a marine base
(whom we see as sea-rats)
and we talk about our girls,
our wives
and it feels as if the morose weather
will never end,

the wind howls day and night
and nobody has seen the sun
in a week
and when the rain ceases to fall

we shine our boots,
polish our step out shoes
iron uniforms, are drilled
like new recruits
up and down through the base

with a RSM keeping pace
to keep the officers in line
and we are issued with rifles,
clean them
have to shoulder arms,
practice the generals salute a million times

to send the President on his way,
to say goodbye to P. W. Botha,
a old bold man
who presses a black hat
against his chest,

whose soldiers gave the Cubans
much more than a bloody nose
and he has been disposed of,
removed from his job
by F. W. De Klerk and his cabinet.

[Please note that in the southern hemisphere the month July is in the depth of winter.]