One night I slip and fall inside a dream:
Here people sigh, they groan, they shake the trees,
but branches never swing and nothing falls.
Until at last I hear a throbbing scream,
then stars begin to drop like fruits. The breeze
dissolves, the blood congeals, and roar the squalls.
And then I notice how the senseless lights
are rolling into seas, with grace and ease,
but stay afloat, illuming sleeping dolls
that dream this dream their lonely endless nights—
morn' calls!
knows of its boundless fame down here.
Weather is talked about everywhere,
Day and night, winter and summer.
Weather could start a fashion line,
Walk the red carpet, promote some airline
Posing in the skinniest of Calvin Kleins,
Hear them rave “Weather looking so fine!”
Weather could write a book or sing a song,
Endorse a politician, be a sex symbol in a thong,
If woman, or if a man, look ripped shirtless and strong.
Be a role model for the children and the young.
Along with Jennifer Lawrence and George Clooney,
Weather could star in a summer blockbuster movie,
Or be spotted by pap going out with a certain celebrity…
If only weather knew how predictable things could be!