My breath is exhausted by the Dance of the Front Brook;
My heart aches at the Midnight Song.
I seek but cannot find the cloud from the Gorge;
What am I to do with the water in the ditch?
The northern wild goose has ceased to bring letters;
The bamboos by the Hsiang are stained with many tears.
I have no means of getting to see your face,
But let me still entrust the tiny ripples with a message!
translated by James J.Y. Liu
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Leonard Durso 
I would come to you, but the summer monsoons have washed out the roads. It sounds like parts of northern Australia at the wrong time of the year. At least we now have email.
Yes, technology does make it easier to stay in contact now regardless of floods, storms, and other natural disasters. A definite advantage to living in the modern age.