By Joseph Hesch
If you look at those old black and white photos,
maybe something by Adams or Weston,
what appeared as dark grey
actually may have been red.
And so this morning, when I awoke,
time rolled backward to those days
as the weather rolled ahead.
Some unseen printmaker soon developed
the eastern sunrise
from a sparkling glow shaded rose
to a slate curtain of stormy dread.
You'll soon find that I have an unhealthy interest in the weather. I say unhealthy because it's both making me crazy and -- living year-round in the Northeast US -- slowly killing me. But, as a poet, Nature is one of the prime movers of my creativity. Along with sleep, age, love (both real and imagined), and writing itself. So batten down the hatches and prepare for more literal and figurative stormy weather in the coming weeks.