Thirty-Year Storm

We're expecting another big storm today--worse for Winnipeg and parts west, but here we expect at least a deluge of rain onto frozen ground, and possibly snow. 

At this point, there's nothing really left to say about that. 

Except when you're playing with rhythm in the wee hours of the morning, to wit:

An April morning:

I’m sunny on the inside

Rain and snow outside

Storm in the forecast

They fill wood box and bathtub

But won’t wear a mask

The house is aging

Rain seeps under the windows

Creaky metaphor

Anthropomorphize

Rain as tears, wind as anger

In the morning, joy. 

Note that I learned the word "volta" in the wee hours as well. It's the point where the poem turns to a second idea, which is apt, given that "volta" is Italian for "turn".

So I wasn't going to lament the difficult winter and stormy transition to spring YET AGAIN, but can I just say that I haven't given up hope that this weather system is a volta?

And, just so that I remember that part of transitions, even the external ones like weather, is up to me, full disclosure. Yesterday I ran errands without any coat at all (we were in the car mostly), and I've walked outdoors lately. So yes, it's no longer February.

Even on the inside.