Poor old poem prelude to tomorrow's shoot

Tomorrow's hometown photoshoot out is about weather.  As I was doing it, I remembered that I once wrote a poem about weather.  It was difficult to find because I had filed it away in a folder I call "Poem Graveyard" for poems that I didn't really like but can't bare to delete.  But it is about weather.  So I'll post it for the heck of it.


TV Weather Map


With one hand on the umbrella,
I watch the Doppler greens form patches
where the peaks of my western range
reach up toward your wispy clouds,
moist, your deeper greens flowing,
enlarging across the welcoming Midwest plains,
while irritable yellow spots spin out your warnings,
growing until you collide with this low country heat
fast and thoughtless orange waves,
pouring out electric reds, daring me
to show my face to stinging hail and flashing bolts,
locking me inside this shuttered house
with only the innocent weatherman
grinning on the flickering screen,
until I am no longer brave enough
to go where my coast would
try to understand the deeper sea.