Looking at the weather forecast at the end of a very long winter, I wondered what the predictions would look like if they were written by a poet. Here is my three-day forecast in mid-March, New England, 2026.

An early dawn, an undistinguished sunrise

Muted by damp rain burdened clouds

All day they linger threatening

Finally, rain near the end of day

Puddling and freezing overnight

Black ice warnings called out.

Over that dark and troubled night

The rhododendron leaves curl like tight fists

The moon seeks protection behind blue clouds.

The new day

Pale pink bands gather at the horizon

Sun rising lifting into the light

Before the parade float of brilliant sunrise

Sailing like a kite into the chilly deepest blue air

The arc clear all day

Till we huddle under the shade of that favorite forest

The sun setting just before the soup is served

Quietly, maybe exhausted by the show this morning.

And the final tomorrow

Snow blows in like an invading force

The trees howl with resistance

Our windows fill with images of frozen landscape

A tundra oH course, like a lost bird.We fragile creatures take our blankets

Protecting ourselves even inside our warm homes

Night arrives in quiet still

Dark blue

Silver starlight rests on the trees

The storm fades in force and even memory

Leaving us wondering if that glimpse of spring was an illusion.