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.
Copyright ©
Chinedum Ekwobi
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