The sky had been, well, mixed.
Some blue with cirrus, tufts of white
a balmy breeze would drift, most days
throughout the pages of the meeting place.
A few, though harmless bolts of lightning,
followed by thunder and a bit of hail,
did not disturb the atmosphere unduly, no.
Nor were the flakes of powdered snow
stirred up by lilywhite and fragrant Haines
in any way a sign of climate changes.
But then, it must have been ordained,
a brew of heavy clouds descended,
and rained and hailed on the parade,
it was bizarre and so disturbing, really
that many of the folks got off their duffs,
and grabbed their pitchforks right away
to chase the devil's excrements away.
The real question that remains is this:
Why does our God not simply take
the great initiative to kill the bastard
once and for all, it would be logical.
Unless he likes the stormy weather,
to bother all humanity, forevermore.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weather-by-god/
