My folder of poems labeled "weather" holds no clues as to whether or not there’ll be any weather to count on, say, a hard rain like "little nails," or that deluge "plunging radiant" now that we’ve plunged into war and wars don’t stop like rain stops like that last slow drizzle onto the old tin bathroom vent sweet hint of growth in the soft wet drift north fire or ice, fire or ice are you breathing, are you lucky enough to be breathing
From Doing 70 by Hettie Jones. Copyright © 2007 by Hettie Jones. Used by permission of Hanging Loose Press.
Date Published: 2007-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/weather-0