Weather this week won’t get any prize.
Nor will my doggerel, I surmise.
Iffy promises in days of yore,
brought words that tickled me to the core.
A kid with a thing to anticipate,
I needed assurance on my plate.
My sisters joined me in my glee,
“Can we, can we, can we?”
Humor and caution brought Daddy’s replies,
“If the Lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise.”
The creek’s now risen around our place
with a seabird coming to show its face.
Another saying on the last Facebook
caused me listen as well as look.
“February’s thunder predicts a cost
for April’s late coming frost.”
Thunder last night with its rumble
turned my sleep to naught but tumble.
Counting claps took no wizard
to forecast a fourth month blizzard.
South Mississippi usually plays nice;
but the weekend prediction is falling ice.
Still, none of this weather has caused the worst.
Events were all cancelled by Covid first.
