Merry May will soon give way to June monsoon,
But for now there are only clouds gathering,
A bit of a drop in the temperature, breezes.
There are hypotheses about why people talk
About the weather so much. One holds it
Gives us a shared experience and a neutral topic
Allowing strangers and enemies to converse
A bit. Or, it could just be that despite everything
We’ve invented to protect ourselves from it,
Clothes, shelters, hearths, culverts, levees,
And forecasts, it still affects us, still steers us,
Occasionally still loots, impoverishes, and kills us.
Weather can hurt. A little nervousness is in order,
If not, perhaps, so much chattering palaver.
On a steep slope looking out over the lake
Toward the wilderness, the voices of children
Float through the trees as the afternoon darkens.
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