Whither the weather
that fickle wrapping of our planet?
Invisible, vapor-laden with secret oxygen,
blended in with other life-essential elements,
‘though sadly soiled and spoiled by polluting poisons.
Our air here is sun-fed with gray-blue clouds,
white puffs, too.
Warm-cold-moist breezes stream
across this peninsula called Florida.
Today I look westward from this cozy safe-house.
A cumulus landscape approaches
inviting thunder threats within its
darkening fleece. It grows gloomily opaque;
yet, persistent sun suddenly intrudes,
as if to bully away the storm.
I am here basking as a refugee from winter
that’s blizzarding now the Midwest and beyond,
even, finally, collecting white inches
above my thirsty New York lawn.
I’ll be a “snowbird” here for a week.
Still, I internet-check the weather up there,
I watch the weather channel,
I even consult newspaper charts.
(Will my snowblower service perform?)
Weather watching is like mood measuring:
this vacation ritual offers subtle relief
tinged with a pious self-satisfying guilt --
a conscience-remnant from decades ago.
Climatic vagaries mirror moods:
I deserve this! edging out Piles of homework await! I relish the warm breezy moment
even while fearing the forecast.
Life is a juggling act --
accepting atmospheric surprises,
duty-demanding pressures,
and life’s simple pleasures.
I dare not drop the ball.
