they promise  snow
flurries flake in a
semi-serious way,
blurry haze,
no deposits
sorry, accumulations,
worthy of a ooh! a
blizzard, so reverse
course, back to bed

the lesson relearned
time+time ‘n again
hope for the best,
sacked by safe predicates
sunrise sacked by accumulated greenness, little hope for the sun set to be any better, and I pray to the gods in the vicinity, who congregate when poetry is being written, in order to insert a wordy word word, of their choosing, but I am dizzy with disappointment, lightheaded by the right ugly light, and the only fool I suffer, Is myself, for being the only optimist that the pessimist might actually write a correct forecast
and in conclusion

I proclaim to no one that is nearby,
That weatherman played poker with me
and a deck full of jokers