The Weather Forecast

The Weather Forecast

I cling to a tree to stay upright, the wind

is cruel, loud and wild, the air so very

much in motion.   I am used to its inclemency,

all the weather’s recent vagaries, be

they hailstorms, snowstorms or blizzards,

tempests, gales or hurricanes.

There really is no need for isobars,

decibars, millibars or screened  sermons

from weather-prophets, safe in warm studios

in their finery; we surely now believe

that climate is a-changing, like the times.

Mother Nature’s  inclinations have always

given indications:  I follow skies,

cloud movements and their colours,  the flow of  

waters, the aching in my bones.  Even the

strains of birdsong sound nervous and their feeding

frantic, just before a storm. The avians and

the beasts are my weather-gauge, my weather- eye.

Undeterred, my snowdrops thrive,

always stoical,  sweet,  ice-white and full of promise,

a sign of brighter days to come.

I cling  to that.

Cait O’Connor