Empire of the Roaches

With the world teetering yet again on the edge of nuclear devastation with Russia contemplating a civil war and moving tactical nuclear weapons to Belarus I was brought back to one of my favorite lyric poems, "There Will Come Soft Rains" By Sara Teasdale.

This scene of devastation was created using Bing Image Creator with a bit more gloom added with the help of Photoshop and Redfield filters for the Slider Sundays group. If not a happy Sliders Sunday at least a contemplative one...

 

 

There Will Come Soft Rains

Sara Teasdale

1884 –1933

 

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

 

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

 

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

 

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

 

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

 

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

 

Sara Teasdale was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914. In 1918 she won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1917 poetry collection Love Songs.

Done