Weatherman
(John Raymond Pollard)
2005-07-16

Midnight, starlight, a halo ‘round the moon...
Day break...I wake. Clouds pour into view.

You moved in like the northeast wind.
The sky was dark; the day was stormy.
You walked my way and brushed my skin.
And chilled my spine without a warning.
On that stormy day I saw you look my way,
I caught your gaze, and entered the eye of your hurricane.

Farmers sometimes pray for rain.
Navajo may dance.
The burning plain cries out for rain, I for romance.

Mesmerized, and trying to begin
a conversation on that stormy morning,
I asked where you’re from and where you’ve been
and said the weather here is never boring.
With stormy days, thunderclaps, and bright displays,
Just like morning haze, your hazel eyes are made for praise.

Lit by love’s spark, I said it’s getting dark.
Are you here all alone?
Let’s grab a cab or maybe an ark and head on home.

The embers’ glow shows amber on our skin
Like a traffic light that flashes warning:
Go slow; no, stop; OK, begin.
There’s calm inside; although outside it’s storming.
A stormy day; inside we’re side by side at play,
I am blown away, swept into the calm of your hurricane.

Weatherman never gave me warning
about this big cloud burst.
Now I’ve found that a torrential drenching can quench my thirst.

Now that I’m your weatherman
Every day throughout the seasons
I’ll forecast sunshine to keep you tan,
predict a tropic breeze to ease the freezing.
And we’ll share sunny days, palm-lined beaches, sparkling waves.
Each time you look my way, I’ll enter the calm of your hurricane.