Shisa said I ought to work on this one. ......but all I ever had was the one line and that from E. Just retuned from his brother-in-law's funeral.. the first of our set to go, that is siblings and their spouses. Felt strange. the line came back to me and this resulted. I know it is not up to snuff I haven't sritten a word i over two years but here goes anyway.
Storm Stories
The last time we were here-
in early March
a sudden cold snap with rain
crunched into an ice storm
I remember a woman at the hotel-
a woman from Maine who complained
I thought Texas was supposed to be hot.
Well, climate has a way of not honoring
what is supposed to be
That is the very definition of a storm
Okay, but stop right there
No one wants to hear your storm stories
They’re just waiting for you to shut up
so they can tell you their own
I know that is true-
have observed how they glance away
No one wants to hear how cold
or hot
or wet
or windy
life can get
Or that a man can die
six months after getting a doctor’s vote
of confidence
three days before his grandchild is born
and how it is supposed to be
does’nt matter at all
Storms will out-
trees fall
through your roof
and ice in March can shut down
freeways
even if you haven’t thought
to wear a proper coat
3 comments:
The poem makes me feel the weight of inevitability. I'm glad you posted it. I'm sorry for you and E.
Carol
Hi Caro. It is very sobering when your own generation starts dying off. I always thought of us as kids...lol. Thanks for reading.
Judy!!!!
...supposed to...
yes--
this poem speaks volumes about the uselessness of "supposed to"
:(
love it... you have a way with philosophy
sorry to hear about Ernie's brother in law
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