You and your hollow promises.

Eager as a child on Christmas,
I awaken early, craving
the snow you forecast.

Ninety percent chance, you said.
Two to three inches.


Decades of deceit;
countless disappointments.
Why do I still trust you?

You’re no better than
Lucy, promising that
this time, this time,

you will hold the
football steady,
and me, Charlie Brown —

credulous, earnest —
running headlong toward
your empty assurance,

squandering again
my precious optimism,
as if it were endless.

Keep your green screen.

Inwardly, a trough advances;
within it, a depression.

Even now, clouds gather,
a legion of bruised
expectations, their

breath a tumult
of wind. These skies,
mercurial, will not clear

without delivering
the promised storm.

I can count on it.

The day breaks clear.
Sun gilds late
leaves clinging

to bone-dry
branches, stubborn
as a pout. They

might have crumbled
beneath my boots,
disappeared in snow.

Wet-nosed deer —
this year’s fawns —
graze the last green grass.


These obstinate, alternate
wonders, always pranking
my preferences.

Becoming dark tonight,
lightening toward morning.
Continuing, widespread uncertainty.

Intermittent broken promises;
inverted expectations.

Significant beauty
accumulating everywhere.

You can count on it.









  1. Don’t want snow even though it’s pretty.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well, you’ll probably get it, then. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “Crap.” Yes! Delightful! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Stephanie! You heard that with just the amount of self-mocking petulance I intended. Splendid ear, dear reader.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Haha. We joke that meteorologists are the only people who get paid for being wrong half the time! BTW, it snowed here yesterday and it wasn’t forecast. Oops, missed again.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. So true! I’m glad you, at least got the white stuff — though perhaps you’d just as soon not. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. We don’t mind snow. Tina is originally from Denver and loves the stuff! We never get enough for her liking. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I grew up in Minnesota and still love snow. We don’t get enough here, though I do appreciate the sunshine and warmer interludes.

          Liked by 1 person

  4. Maybe, the only thing “elderitis” has taught me is cherish each moment; beware of what you wish for!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Indeed! I have certainly learned that — as much as I want certain outcomes — I don’t know what’s “best,” or even if there is such a thing. Thanks for reading and commenting, Leo.


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