I Am Not Poem PAD April 21, 2015

I Am Not A Meteorologist

But, I can smell snow when leaden

clouds, heavy as pregnant sheep,

lumber over the ridges, baaing

its arrival. In summer, I can smell

rain when the maple leaves turn silver

and the heat, sprawled out over the

city, gets up with fists ready, but rain

pummels the piss out of it, brandishes

the title belt, and the cold front moves

in, sweeping broken branches

and scattered blossoms out of the ring.

I cannot predict the weather,

but neither can the meteorologist.

Kim King © 2015


About k2king

Francophile, writer, poet, and mother of Samoyeds
This entry was posted in My poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I Am Not Poem PAD April 21, 2015

  1. You make for some excellent reading, Kim King! Thought I’d get over here and let you know!

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