Weather Watch a poem by Rob Hoyle

Weather Watch

Yesterday a proper darkness,

 modest, semi-starlit. Not too showy:

 no conflict between Orion, The Plough

and solar-powered 'nite-lights'.

A little light rain for atmosphere.

Spectacles spotted, sight altered,

I imagine myself

a sideways-seeing insect.

Now, in front of the houses,

those tangerine street lights

become imperious giraffes

processing, stately, aloof.

A Tesco delivery truck

creates sound-waves

that pattern pavements pewter,

re-direct droplets

in an anti-gravity movement

to shivering shed roofs.

And soon the sky lowers itself

in a bilious tumble

as if the heavens need antacid.

Elemental energy

seemingly indigestible.

Blithering snowflakes

huddle for security?

not knowing there is no safety

in the winds irascible blunder.

The bird-table wears ermine,

car is re-designed by nomadic snow.

I shine a torch, landscape

has become a Mexican wave.

It's time for boots and sensible gloves.

Clean breath is softer than new love.

Then , in the future,

polished moon,

a sky perforated with brilliance

from the long dead.

This is a time of spirit,

heart and sense,

not head.

Rob Hoyle