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.