Since the weather changed,
the rain runs in from sides,
along ground and crawling
in rivulets up outside walls,
streaming windows of buildings,
collecting in piles on rooftop
and hilltop in sidepours
and squalls.
And the hail
Rolls and skips
from one side. It seems
nothing to do with the wind,
just an onrushing rolling and skipping
tide, or stampede of cold fists
flung and chips hard shot
in one-sided melee, skipping up
from each surface and curb, pitting
by ricochet, denting cars, breaking
glass, but the worst
of it all is the sun. Oh, the snow
creeps us all the fuck out as it drifts
in like time-delay rime-frosted slime mold
of purest white. But the sun, oh
the sun
Just looks down on all this.
Just as if
it's right.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Friday, August 28, 2020
Since the weather changed
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