And Now The Weather

 

Rain drops smudge the inky page,

snowflakes on the talk shows,

the sun bakes hard the daily news.

That’s the way the wind blows.

 

Lightning strikes the gossip columns,

thunder rustles print rows,

All Hail the brave reporters.

That’s the way the wind blows.

 

Sleet and mizzle obscure truth,

pressure builds in highs and lows

from dull and dreary weathermen.

That’s the way the wind blows

 

War and starvation high and dry,

forget the crook and what he owes,

Trump slides down an icy slope.

That’s the way the wind blows.

 

Eighteen minutes of the news,

the climate comment ebbs and flows

before we reach the ‘other stuff’.

That’s the way the wind blows.

 

When I was now’t but a lad

(or so the age old story goes)

we hung out seaweed to test the air.

That’s the way the wind blows.

 

We didn’t need to be told

if we were hot or if we froze,

we knew the weather for what it was.

We knew which way the wind blows.

 

Too Warm, Too Cold,

Too Soft – who knows?

But, really, I don’t give a toss

which way the fucking wind blows!