A Description of a City Scour

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Awakened by the lyric strain upon my window pane,  
toot sweet I hurried hard to eye the springtide rain's refrain,  
the gutters clogged with beer cans smashed by liquor bottles cracked  
and broods of baby duckies drowned, the last black quack quick quacked,  
with feral kittens dragged to ashen cig-butt depths below  
where puppies lost lay tossed all crossed beneath the undertow  
as canes and wheelchairs bounding down an inundated street  
by walkers and prosthetic feet fleet tripped were off their feet  
while sweeping swift detached upon the flood straight out to sea,  
each crowded day care passed me by without one absentee.  
   
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Poetic Form: Rhyme in Iambic Heptameter  
   
Major Poetic Techniques: Swiftian Irony / Imagery Sharp  
   
Theme: The rational observer wise may still foretell the hour /  
the same sure swift prognostics yet portend the grave spring shower."  
-- The Age-Old Waste