All grins, his hands wave clouds
over the desert of California,
palms flat over the bare Sierras,
smears them white, spreading green
into the Valley. His magic childlike
to promise and deliver weather,
godlike sure and we believe—
hoot and holler in the kitchen, tip
a glass and lift a log to the fire.
Relief in his face, I imagine
the poor bastard has friends again
speaking civilly at home
and through the TV screen—
but as messenger of the gods
it doesn’t pay to act like them.
drycrikjournal 
Clearly it does pay! :)))
..entertainment likely being the majority of his job description…
Mocking, though maintaining, a pervasive media-message
that we have some semblance of control OVER the world
rather than admitting that our only chance at survival requires striking up a genuine RELATIONSHIP with it!
Thanks for sharing this blog and demonstrating how many ways, how many levels, one can be attentive, attune, and fall in love with one’s immediate environment!
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Of course, we may go hunting him to test his mortality if he’s wrong. Thanks, Amanda, for your thoughts and comment.
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This post made me chuckle….an ode to the weatherman. They do seem to act like they control the weather sometimes, don’t they, when it’s really the computer gods. Ha! you can’t fool me.
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Simply loved this and the comments too!
Praying for inches to follow.
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Rain, rain, come today. Go away another day
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