The Weather Report. A poem by Hazel Urquhart

They say certain things adapt
to suit their environment
and ensure their survival.
A marvellous thing to beholdlike the weather, indoors!
I guess it got tired of waiting
for normality to return
decided to join in the fun.

The kitchen’s now Antarctica –
covered in ice. A treacherous choice
I know, makes doing the dishes
an Olympic sport. I’m going for gold.

At least it’s not in the hallway.
She’s a wet Monday in January,
somewhere in the valleys; grey sky hanging low,
smirry rain coats the walls

and in a certain light
it looks like tears – I think she’s depressed.
No-one uses the door anymore,
not like the old days.

I’m sure she’ll be okay.
Maybe some summer sunshine
will seep through from the living room
try and brighten her day

and dry up her sorrow.
I don’t go in there much – the lounge.
Not without protection, at least.
I’ve placed factor 50 by the door

after last weeks incident.
Let me say, sunburn on the soles
of your feet is no fun at all.
I was grateful for the maudlin hall

and her sodden carpet,
cradled my wound like a blanket.
The heat’s popular with the others, though
and the cat seems to love it.

The kids rooms are stormy, of course.
One’s a tornado, the other
thunder and lightening
which is fun for a while

but not long term.
Although, that being said,
the tornado has the room
tidier than before. Keeps an eye on things.

Our room, the bedroom, a winter
wonderland like Narnia. Step through
the door and you’re out of the wardrobe,
although, the husband’s no Mr Tumnus

but, as I can be a right witch
it’s just the right fit for me.
Plus, it helps the sweats and palpitations
from the panic and hormones

which is no fairy tale. Grim as it is.
Last, but not least,
leaving the prettiest till last,
the bathroom’s an autumn forest;

pine scented and decorated
with ochre-hues and mossy walls.
Some might think it’s unhygienic
but the weather’s fairly decent

for that time of year.
Mostly dry, bit wet underfoot
from the occasional shower.
Oh, and the absolute wonder

of the early morning frost
when it catches the light
it’s a beautiful sight
makes the room look majestic

that is, until it melts
which probably explains the damp
and mushrooms under the sink.
Nothing magic about them.

So, that’s the weather,
moved in and part of the family,
certainly keeps us entertained.
Which is just as well

or, this would be hell.

Mature student in my 2nd year of a Creative Writing Degree with UHI Inverness. I enjoy writing poetry and prose and was published by the Scottish Book Trust in their 2019 Anthology, The Blether and most recently in Northwords Now’s Spring 2020 issue. Link:

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