snow stock

On New Year’s Eve we drove around with the top down on the Miata to view fireworks. On Saturday we rode to the park with the top down again, and walked our laps in short sleeves. Now, this is my idea of winter!   

 

Then on Sunday night it snowed.  The weather whiplash prompted the following poem:

Weather or Not It’s Climb-It Change, I Don’t Know 

 

"If you don't like the weather, just wait 15 minutes and it'll change."  

 

I've heard older locals say that  

in every state ever I've lived or visited,  

as if it were something uniquely true  

and rightfully claimed by their territory.   

 

Maybe that is what climate change is to my parents' generation--- 

a fleet of clouds and thunderstorms on a warm day  

that pulls a cold front across the sky, like a tugboat  

pulling a barge up the river; 

 

or an afternoon sun that appears  

and removes any evidence  

and conviction of a brief morning snow.  

 

I'm not sure what my parents would say  

about the sudden wildfires outside Boulder  

extinguished by a snow storm, 

 

besides calling it a miracle, and telling me that 

nature is a force, that God is in charge, and we're 

just along for the wild ride, with no responsibility  

but to hang on.  

Ramon Presson, PhD, is a licensed marriage & family therapist in Franklin,  (www.ramonpressontherapy.com)  the author of multiple books, and a member of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. He can be reached at [email protected].