Strange Weather
I have been reading old detective stories
Which describe long winters and late springs,
What would those authors write now if ensconced
In this hottest year on record
Which follows a string of hottest years on record?
It is strange weather where I live,
While patches of land around the world are baking,
My slice of environment, along the coast,
Caught between the Pacific Ocean and a mountain ridge,
Has been eerily cooler with morning mists
And overcast skies until the late afternoon,
Every day, every week, since early March.
Personally, I have been glad,
My air conditioner broke down 2 years ago,
And I had been dreading facing another season
Of stifling heat from long hot summer days,
But they have not come.
The plants and insects around me are confused.
There were no flies buzzing around
The sticky flowers of the Azaleas this year.
And the giant Hydrangea in front
Has always been a mass of blue flowers by May,
But this year, only a handful
Of the purple blue globes of petals float
In the sea of green Hydrangea leaves – and it is August.
The emails I get are filled with questions
About the lack of bees – where are they?
The locals now guffaw that when three bees
Are seen in close proximity, it is a swarm.
My morning walks have become too quiet
No birds are singing,
And those I do see on roofs and power lines,
Ground and trees,
Have a gaunt and hungry look.
©2019 Carl Scott Harker
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