Weather Report

by Gene Grabiner

I’m following the customs
of your country
by describing the weather.
So think of yourself as being here.
You see, this is how winter is
in this place.
Barren trees are black
against the sky.
The church bell tolls noon,
and you hear it, too.
Deep cold has returned
and large flakes are flying.
A crow sits on the
wire running off a telephone pole.
Yes, yes, I know you are
from a warm country,
a country with palm trees
and lush grasses.
But it’s winter
in the soul of my country.
And we don’t know
if spring will return.