NaPM April 10 2016

[RiverNotch]

WEATHERTOWN

I will not leave for Weathertown,
will not Desire -- its spires,
for though I like the weatherman,
I've yet to catch -- his Lies.

The TV and the radio,
they never ride my wave --
and when I search the web for rain,
I always fail to save.

And people -- though I took no vows,
I comb the hermit's fill:
my wilderness, a shuttered home,
my hieromonk, a pill --

for past the weatherman's vane charms,
you chickens are a chore --
aside from belts of blood and breast,
this business is a bore.

Or rather, how I dread romance --
to Love is like a storm!
and cities, hated opposite --
great droughts -- past all alarm.

No, I'll not leave for Weathertown,
and treat the 'Self' -- applied,
for Truth is not a gale without:
I'd rather Live -- a child.