Intern Timmy’s Poems – In Defence of Weather

By Timmy the Intern
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A typically bright and sunny day on Albion’s shores to accompany this poem sent from my desk to yours

In Defence of Weather

Here in Britain weather’s met with somewhat of surprise,
a look of disbelief wiped off with rubbing of the eyes.
“It’s the first of June,” they say, “and it’s damp and drizzly,
that’s a good enough excuse for us to whinge all grizzly.”
You’d think by now that late summer rains, or spring’s notorious showers
could never be the spark of conversations that last hours
and yet atop their comfy chairs and supping cups of tea
you can find Britons moaning about weather nearly constantly.

“Oh it’s cold!” It’s January, what did you expect?
Thirty degree sunshine and Barbecues on the deck?
“Oh my God, it’s snowing! How will we get to work?”
Just don’t go, you muppet. It’s weather’s bloody perk.
“Well this isn’t normal, it’s spring but cold and wet.”
It’s April, the season’s in flux, that’s just what you get.
It happens almost every year, how is it still surprising?
How does your head not explode when you see the sun rising?
“Oh my God, the sun!” You say, your eyes wide, fit for bursting.
“Oh no, wait, don’t go!” you shout, because now the sun’s reversing.
“Oh my word it’s so hot…” said in sweltering summer drawl,
as if you hadn’t paid attention to previous summers at all.
“Oh my word, storms in October – This must be the end.”
No, it happens every year my daft, forgetful friend.

From lightning strikes to Europe’s floods
our minds appear to all be duds,
as we forget what came before
and say, surprised, with open door,
“Oh look at the weather there,
It’s never happened before.”

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