government bean counters discover
the weather thief.
Clocks being notoriously duplicitous,
they call in the air strike,
but the pilots, raw with romantic disappointments,
stay drunk on the tarmac.
Winter comes.
Whole departments are deleted.
The bear sleeps.
And the weather thief?
She escapes to find
warmth from other sources.
______
for my BFF's Friday 55.
The weather thief! That is so clever, Shay. Me, I like a warm bear.
ReplyDelete"warmth from other sources." Brilliant and hopeful!
ReplyDeleteMay those bears stay in their caves, now that the potentate has removed their protections. This is a very clever poem. I especially love the clocks, all gone awry.
ReplyDeleteI often feel I have completely run out of superlatives to use when I comment on your work, Shay. This one is one of those where the reasons your throat catches reading it seem impossible to describe--I mean, it's amusing and dryly witty, yet there's just something...something that twists your heart a bit. I do believe in the weather thief, though--she is realer than Santa for sure, and I have a stray Snuggee she is more than welcome to use.Thanks so much for playing, dear BFF--you make the weekend kick ass.
ReplyDeleteThat "something else" in your piece is sorrow. Works well for poetry, but leaves us cold as hell in a real Winter of the soul. Get yourself a snugge, dear friend. I can mail you one...Tiger or Cheetah? ha. Or do I presume too much? Ass-ume...
ReplyDeleteI am shocked the bean counters were competent enough to find her in the first place. I'm sure they're counting acorns instead, as "alternative beans".
ReplyDeletei'm more of a coffee bean counter
ReplyDeleteClocks can't be trusted. They give it to everyone and sometimes lie... lie to give the thief more time to steal. Now, where is that warmth?
ReplyDeleteYou're right, time is not true, watch yourself, lest the weather thief nabs you.
ReplyDeleteI think I will do like the bear... sleep.
ReplyDeleteAfter all, my name means bear.