So I guess I am
The weatherman
And I just keep on changing
Just about the time I think
I can play in flip flops and cargo shorts
I find myself bundled
Huddled
In a corner missing
Life
Breath
Warmth
Only so that
No sooner than I’d changed
I am holding onto the heavy baggage
Of a backpack stuffed to the brim
With an overcoat I don’t need anymore
My back hurting from the
Back and forth
And so hate me, if you will
The weatherman
Responsible for these changes
Find me to be a frustration
To your day
Wonder why I ping-pong
With no rhyme or reason
But mind the season
Because no one said that Spring was easy
No one promised you buds
Not covered
In frost
And you can spend your time
Like mine
Wondering what comes next
Setting expectations
And losing
Or you can spend your time
With me
Understanding that no matter what comes next
The best
For the situation
Is all that you need know
To be the forecast
