The Weather Report is Grim

The Weather Report is Grim

The joke around here
involves a quick spring
The jacket stays home
The sun is warm
before a dump of snow

The geese arrive
wafting against the clouds
a delicate strand
The trees start budding
We become transparent
In our joy

For a few days
spring is here
Then summer will be
the kind that it is
the thought of it familiar

We constantly exclaim
“it is never like it was
when we first got here”
The sun will barely touch down
and you are gone
again

A reporter may have forecasted this
but I will always hold out hope

 

© 2018 Mindy Goorchenko All rights reserved. Alaskans talk about weather. It never gets old. Here is a link to my published poetry collection, The Latent Talent of Conception. Thank you for your support!

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