(3) "In this poem, I imagined world-weary immigrants witnessing climate change finally bring them a familiar comfort: seasonal monsoons. Yet by the time it arrives, they themselves have changed too much to adapt back." How interesting! Submission guidelines: tinyurl.com/RainstormCALL
I remember clearly how bright and sunny, how blue the sky was in Wellington when we moved there from 5 years in Singapore and 4 years in Hong Kong in 1970 I had never been so cold or had to squint my eyes closed against the brightness so Every day was one where I could run and climb - no snakes!