The rainy season has begun

In times that last and places outcast.

The pocketbook run is done,

The room for worry is closing fast.

Agitation reaps its source

In the crux of quarreling limbo,

Cynicism runs its course

And foresight shrinks in its all-inclusive glow.

Never is the word forthcoming

When a debt of honour booms,

As the void of decency drumming

At the doors of moral rooms.