The wind’s got rain
in its mouth, lets
the rain do the talking:
you mean well, naming
a storm raises
awareness of rivers.
But Stuart? Really?
You showed that other god,
Aeolus, more respect.
The weather was always
out there, long hot summers
you took for granted –
now the heat of those days
burns back, haunts care homes,
high schools, farms –
you live inside the weather
like the first men and women,
watchful, painting in caves.
Jeff Skinner
Jeff's poems are widely published in the UK, most recently in Amethyst Review, Acumen, London Grip; before that, in Ink, Sweat and Tears, Paperboats, Allegro, among others. Work is forthcoming in Aftershock Review and Stand. He volunteers at his local food bank, listens to music, watches football, reads, writes.