With decorous aplomb he delivers the news
to a nation unmoved by repetitive tales.
His forecast of cold; one degree up, minus a few,
how shrewd, how astute, how insightful perhaps,
like a prophet divines to the emotionally wise.
Timeís brought it again, this winter Iíve known,
but the cold passes by like birds in full flight
to herald in spring and the seeding again
of new life from old and from the dark, light.
How artful the plan, how devious, bad,
to bring in the cold to the warmth of my home
but I move to the right, blank out the screen,
and the weatherman fades back into his cage.
Heíll stay there, I guess, for a decade or two,
but I picture him there so suave, debonair,
and cool, oh, so cool dressed casual, no tie,
in winterís spotlight that highlights a lie.
ĎTis summer, my friends, the summer of life,
and Iíve promised myself no shivers tonight!