The forecast on the radio
I didn't need.
I felt it coming
In and through the threads of my light sweater
Tickling my skin so my arms embraced
One another.

The barometer falling
As are the remaining Ash leaves
Of yellow, like canaries rushing about
Certainly saying goodbye
To the past
As they must
When the wind picks up.

Hurling chilly
whips of wind
down
The East canyon
Announcing its arrival
I think of my warmest coat
And how long I'll have to wear it
As I sit on the porch in my shivering
Bare feet listening for what is to come
The seasons change
How will I?

Life sometimes sunny, rainy or snowy
But what of those cloudy days
When we are too depressed to dress

How do we interpret that which befalls us
When it is dark above and an ill wind blows in
What do we rely upon as our barometer

There a myriad of reasons for when the weather changes
Maybe health is being a messy storm and a dichotomy of ailments
Or your relationship resembling a twisting tornado

A lost job or business failure a hurricane to the future
Droughts in our lives igniting all types of addictions
Failing grades a tsunami of disappointment

Postpartum a wall of sleet not easily navigated
Mental illness a torrent too easily dismissed
Marriage troubles a cyclone bursting forth

Loss of love resembling mesmerizing howling winds
Death a lightning rod striking into the soul
The past a swirling sandstorm blinding us

Andreas Simic©