Bad Weather

I’ve learnt to judge you at crucial time, Not to conclusions jumping: a regrettable crime, Marriage a woman often eyes in her prime, Your chosen days, a sour lime, In my room locked, caring not a dime … Your hovering winds minding, When their pressures are grinding, Your heat we don’t support finding, Your droplets on even paths winding. Befriended I have weather installations, In reasonable disregard for my misguided eyes, And unhelpful nostrils of clueless inhalations; A soon-to-be- frustrated traveler cries! Your forecasters do their faculties stretch, For their job that does the future sketch, The processes, some science, some puzzle, To the outsider, a shotgun’s dark nozzle! Openly praise I do Meteorology, Just as we freely, Theology, For our aeroplanes’ safe schedules, And avoided typhoons, in their own right, needless. Bad weather: a reason to evacuate a zone, Biting cold dying to visit the bone, Our bodies in voluminous coats conceal, This done to shivers heal. On the feet of an underdog drops victory, A world-rated team packaging her defeat, All the wind-aided records of history, The shoddy from champions one could never beat, In an unaccustomed weather playing, And from success track straying. Bad weather: a sad news for outdoor activities, In the face staring festivities, Every young day wearing a stormy countenance, A prelude to hurrying priests of eminence, In the interception of rainfall versed, Never failing to reproduce the rehearsed.