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“The Poetry of Bad Weather” by Debora Greger
Someone had propped a skateboard
by the door of the classroom,
to make quick his escape, come the bell.
For it was February in Florida,
the air of instruction thick with tanning butter.
Why, my students wondered,
did the great dead poets all live north of us?
Was there nothing to do all winter there
but pine for better weather?
Had we a window, the class could keep an eye
on the clock and yet watch the wild plum
nod with the absent grace of the young.
We could study the showy scatter of petals.
We could, for want of a better word, call it “snowy.”
The room filled with stillness, flake by flake.
Only the dull roar of air forced to spend its life indoors
could be heard. Not even the songbird
of a cell phone chirped. Go home,
I wanted to tell the horse on the page.
You know the way, even in snow
gone blue with cold.
(from Southwest Review, 2006, Volume 91, Number 1)
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Less is more
Beautiful–on a very cold day with snow and ice everywhere. Or maybe anytime.
‘Only the dull roar of air forced to spend its life indoors’
If its roaring all you need to get an HVAC technician out to balance the air handlers. The roar will go away.
Another great choice, Harrison!
I’ll admit, this is the first one I’ve liked.
Really Cameron?
I remember enjoying quite a few of them and one in particular stands out in my mind:
This is Just to Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
by William Carlos Williams
(I guess it satisfied my sweeth tooth!
)
I did like that one, so make it two, but I like this one better!