Unseasonal
Unseasonal; or, What makes us thankful for a high of minus 10 degrees Celsius
And if it weren't for the cold, how could we afford
the real estate? Yet this February like a Pulitzer
winner: astonishing, unpredictable, heartfelt,
a feat. We nearly forgot the mildness was accidental.
So the snow races water out like a leaking
orange, and with as much plan as an orange'd
have. A streaming game of What time is it, Mr Wolf,
and the shifting sunset waremoon answers
with an unblinking subway token eye: refreeze.
How unfair to run the sidewalk as a sluice and not warn
of stop and start, but then how dangerous to lend voice
to snow or moon or the coldest quarter year.
The meteorologists like a logjam knock heads:
unseasonal--ha! like our winters were predictable
instead of a staggering, risky, pregnancy.
Lover, real life is no metaphor,
and a geography lesson is inferior to good advice.
Forgetting February's howl is national pastime,
and unable to foretell the kind year, you must
try them all, which is why we are often surprised.
And if it weren't for the cold, how could we afford
the real estate? Yet this February like a Pulitzer
winner: astonishing, unpredictable, heartfelt,
a feat. We nearly forgot the mildness was accidental.
So the snow races water out like a leaking
orange, and with as much plan as an orange'd
have. A streaming game of What time is it, Mr Wolf,
and the shifting sunset waremoon answers
with an unblinking subway token eye: refreeze.
How unfair to run the sidewalk as a sluice and not warn
of stop and start, but then how dangerous to lend voice
to snow or moon or the coldest quarter year.
The meteorologists like a logjam knock heads:
unseasonal--ha! like our winters were predictable
instead of a staggering, risky, pregnancy.
Lover, real life is no metaphor,
and a geography lesson is inferior to good advice.
Forgetting February's howl is national pastime,
and unable to foretell the kind year, you must
try them all, which is why we are often surprised.