El Niño 1998

elnino

Benign the weather god has been to me
who sent the humid infant to demand
no tribute dearer than a twisted knee.
It lets my rotten-floored garage withstand
the cataracts of Codornices Creek
and daily squalls don’t penetrate my panes.
Except a rotting casement, I’ve no leak
within my castle keeping out these rains.

We’re nearly done with May, but there’s a chill
like autumn permeating atmosphere.
The gardens bloom by calendar, but still
we turn our heaters on. I waking hear
the flirting birds, but winter lingers yet,
and privately I revel in the wet.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s