If you aren't paying attention to the weather, we Maritimers are currently being crushed by a winter storm of epic proportions. Luckily, we Maritimers are made of the stuff of legends. Thus, Poetry Friday remains in full force. Take that, climate!
Let's fight the cold and snow (so much snow!) by snuggling up in a blanket and enjoying a read of George Sipos' unsurprisingly on-topic poem "Weather Report" from his collection the glassblowers.
Sure, George is writing about the West Coast, and we're suffering a nor'easter, but it's the thought that counts.
There was a time I would have sat at the computer,
the garden outside dark or moonlit,
the things that preoccupy dreams interrupted
into a mindlessness beyond sleep,
searching for the words
at the centre of our common night.
But that time is past.
Elsewhere January rain is melting snow,
and mist from ice jams on the river
drifts among the trees.
I could tell you that all of the basements
of the North are flooded, that water
from eaves is drilling sinkholes in the snow,
each drop echoing from little wells.
I could tell you, but I don’t.
I leave the computer off.
Sleep will come in the end,
and the radio turn on at six
to tell us the temperature and
what to expect from the weather.
We will wake then to whatever
there may be for us to say
about how unseasonable the world now is
or what the day might,
even now, bring.