Didn’t last too long, did it?
That said
A week is better than nothing
A God damn week of good weather
When we were able to appreciate everything for what it was
Sun-baked streets, melted tar every which way
Something as simple, as peaceful as watching the colour on a birds feather
But what I really want to do is talk about the other fifty-one weeks of the year
What are they doing to us, why do they steer so queer?
Is it that we’re destined for disaster when it comes to the onslaught of rain
Even if we got away with it for a while
Rain, rain go away, come again when I decide to say
It’s scandalous
West Cork becomes West Cork when the sun sprays itself all over the place
Hard to not drink a Bulmers in the sun, remain sober
All about working through it, handling your hangover
I don’t like Bulmers but you get the gist
This is it
Today’s soaking wet
Yesterdays smiles have returned to frowns, mounds of stored up fret
It’s sad to see it, how our state of mind changes
The weather, good or bad, picking up on the range of personality
I do like the rain but not every God damn day
If it came once in a while before opting against the long-term stay
That would be great
Better to meet a pretty girl, get to take her out on a date
Minus what the weather puts us through
& the girls are better looking too when the sun hangs high in the sky
As though all of the skimpy gear were stored away for an unuspecting day
That is the case
So here’s to another God damn week of good weather
& if it fails to last too long
I’ll look to the heavens
Place that bird’s feather in my pocket
& smile, pretend it’s about to return
Tomorrow maybe

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