Every Single Bit of Weather

Sifting through the fair
soft air – the oddly
plummy hoot of bongos
bleating in the park’s
warm beating heart: mild
enough today and far enough
from winter dark to play

the sensually faintly
gleaming part of March:
not Spring yet, but with
hints of what might slake
the thirst – the parched
experience that clings
like a cocoon to the expected

cool first vernal moon,
too still and shy behind
the bongos’ jewel note
tune quite to arrive –
just yet. There’s more
to every single bit of weather
than appears, I’ll bet.

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