Irish Eyes: Wolfish Weather
It is raining here. Heavily. The rain has been falling now for forty times forty times forty minutes. Which is to say it is exponential.
Downstairs there are little wavelets lapping on the door. The rain is a hungry wolf, in wet weather gear. Not dressed up as a grandma. Oh no.
It is wolfish weather alright. Big yellow teeth like car headlights and foul breath.
Foul breath like a chicken farmer. No, foul breath like a car exhausting down your throat.
Like a Texas oil tycoon practicing onanism over a prospective president. Oh yeah they love him in Texas and in the boardrooms of skyscrapers.
It won't flood on the fortieth floor. At least not if you've an Ark. What will become of the boring grey sky. We might drown. Green little land under the sea. Green in all its meanings but not cabbage looking.
Yeah, it's wolfish weather alright. Like the times. Not the Irish Times. All the times. Which is by a winding path to say time is the enemy. We need an enemy. Bring on more time before it is too late.
It is wolfish weather, in cities and in forest. With big
loping strides running down the gutters its
going to gobble one of us up for sure.
- feedback to