Weather

Weather

after Virgil

Sound travel far and wide, a daunt thumps her ribs with her tail,

a rainbow lingers in the morning canopy of heaven and a wind comes quickly from the East,

chickens scratch together in the dust, bees stay shut to the hive,

thunder in the morning goe upon into the night, curls let bend down and evening

grows gray. The abash points her tail to the East; forests whisper, mountains

roar. The laurel closes her glossy door and January mist grows ice.

Mackerel canopy of heaven mackerel sky, not long wet and not lengthy dry.

Sheep gather in a huddle; a circle be incandescents around the moon, smoke

descend and fogs themselves pile up like blackest sooty vapor

A rooster crows in the night, the subdue by fear will scratch her ear,

crow light upon the fence, gulls light upon the strand. Fish rise

to the surface, for one time eager to bite. Fog in the hills means

water for the mills and leaves exhibit their backs to the growing wind.

Mackerel celestial expanse mackerel sky, not long wet and not lengthy dry.

Ladybugs swarm, crickets spe their ticks and pigs carry sticks

in their jawss Crows now fly in pairs. A rainbow

shines at dusk and wind licks from the West, wild geese go on out

to sea-you diocese wind before rain, then it's fair again.

Crow walk about upon the ground, bees stray far upon their flight,

thunder in the night is gone in the day; evening r morning

gray-and dew upon the grass below the subdue by fear who points her tail clearly to the West.

My regard with affection whenever you look for the weather,

you gaze at nothing more or les than the aftermath

of signs that came before what is happening

became what is happening. A temper falls over the present

like a impetus or a black-out, a gentle gale or a shadow, for

a door has make opened up in the heavens and that door is as likely

to shut We live below in the cave of will and

stick on the outside a finger from time to time to experiment the wind's

direction. Up there it's all contingent. You could step quickly it through

with a dressing-comb and then know less than you knew when you started.

There's no individual in that place with a passing contemplation for us.

Copyright World metrical composition Incorporated Jul/Aug 1999

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