Day One: A trance of rain, ear churn momute.
Day Two: Slide high noontide, sundersthorms plate.
Day Three: Moistly scattered sneers and a few frizzles.
Day Four: Chants of wrinkles, dartly cloudy and chowdery.
Day Five: Humility Poor Boy Talls, Barometer IPA 75%.
Day Six: Moggy, very low viability.
Day Seven: Topical air mass pew point, wind clam.
Extended Forecast:
- Thick hot pine tar air dropping from powerful trees.
- Rosemary, basil, garlic, and spearmint mixing with tales of salt water.
- Soft golden sun boiling over salsa garden.
- Bare feet in wet sand, nibbled by sand crabbed bubbles.
- Plenty of weather to write or not in the forecast. Some pressure to publish sun only.
The Coming of the Toads 
Here … Round-cast: grey screen vows virtual cheer behind the scene.
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Any pooping clouds ker chance?
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I’m feelin’ very chowdary myself! Mmmmmm
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Down here , we’re having a wry spell , The NRA has announced plans to shoot the breeze . Intermittent weather is forecast .
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El Segundo Beach has some pretty good weather. Or Playa del Rey, not too crowded. Dukesherer went to SBHS.
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Blustery farts rain poisonous darts. :)
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The weatherman keeps his weather rants wrapped in his pants, but as Dylan said, “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” And that’s because, as Tom Paxton said, “Rain and snow, Cold winds blow, What can a poor boy do – ” …which I was just looking for on You Tube, but the only version I could find is this one, some old boy giving it a kind of Irish tone.
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Your “Weather Retort” forces us to NOT take something we hear daily for granted, and sugars it into melody – well done. As well, it illustrates that some only forecast their cloudy vision of our… whether (or not). Thank you for sharing your art!
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Doug, great to hear from you! Thanks for reading and commenting. It’s a sort of strange story how this post started and evolved and came together at the end and seemed to make a certain kind of sense. Suffice to say there’s been a surplus of weather around the area lately. Joe
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Any gutsy wings?
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Ah! I think that must be from a local forecast? But I wish, I wish, I hope…or, as Blake said: “No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.” And Joyce said: “No birdy aviar soar anywing to eagle it.” In any case, I’ve swung the barometer around and set it to “gutsy wings.” Or, wait a minute, is that something that happens after too many Barometer IPAs?
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Yes, it could’ve been from a local forestcase.
In a real weather retort I heard yesterday, while driving home in the drizzle, the radio announcer said: “OK, Burty, can ya give us a weather wrap up?”.
Weather guru Burty: “Well, mate, just stick ya head out of th window – Cloudy, bit of rain … it’s not brain surgery.”
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