9. Meteorology

Swallows are flying low:

that means rain.


Last fall I was clinging to the weather lore

and kept checking the forecast frantically:

it was the only way available

to see at least a small fragment of the future.




Seagulls are floating on water:

that means fair weather.


This spring I relearned the joy of being

the first one to notice that the rain has stopped,

of taking my hood off proudly, followed

by the loud applause of closing umbrellas all around.




The evening sky is bright red:

I forget what that means.


I'm not worried about tomorrow’s warnings—

I'm not trying to read the sky’s mind,

or anyone’s, in fact. I let the sun

set slowly and leave me alone for the night.