Thursday, August 3, 2017

This poem was recently revised, and because it was never posted to the blog, has now been re-posted out of chronological order.



Storm-Stayed
Nov 29 2006


A high pressure system
rides-in on fierce west winds
in a muscle car with the top down.
So it’s clear blue skies
all-the-way-out to the ozone.

A low
is more like rush hour,
except it settles-in for days;
stuck in bumper cars, nose-to-tail
sucking-up exhaust
in a haze of grey.
Forecast -
low ceilings, steady rain.

A tropical depression
can seem never-ending
with its enervating heat.
When even thunderstorms
can’t clear the sultry air.
So it’s walk, and wilt.
Or drive,
a/c cranked-up full.

But what I love
is storm-stayed, and weather watch
in a February gale.
When the wind booms
and shutters rattle,
white-out snow
makes roads impassable.
When the car
is a hump-backed clump of cotton balls
marooned in the driveway.

Because all is excused when I’m snow-stayed,
and the next high pressure system
can wait
- idling away
somewhere out over Saskatchewan.

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