February’s Fickleness

 Rains seek snow,

or is it the other way around

when the drops from trees

punctuate my roof with ellipses

of waiting for real weather,

not this half-way stuff

of indecisive February,

that in fickleness

can’t make up its mind

and throws everybody off—

opening questions of clothes

to fit the weather.

I can’t wear my whole closet

the day is demanding.

I’ll put on the wrong outfit

like the fearful adolescent

who under dresses, or worse,

wears the tux to the football game.

I wish both of us

could finally make up our minds.

27 February 2013

Why discuss the weather.

A brief excerpt from the novel in progress:
The common lesson of the land was one of begrudging acceptance of the circumstances that were beyond either control or reckoning. While the weather was the frequent topic of many conversations everyone knew the weather was merely the opportunity to have an exceptionally safe discussion. Neighbors could compare the amount of rain found in the rain gauges down to the quarter of an inch and some like Bob Higgins were known to always fudge the amount to their favor, no heated arguments would arise over the matter. Conversations about the weather taught acceptance, an unthinking, cattle-like acceptance that this is how ones’ earthly life is supposed to be spent. Like the children in the valley who learned early on to eat what was placed in front of them regardless of taste or texture of the plate’s contents, all learned to take whatever was dished out with thanksgiving.