Madrid Midwinter Weather Blues

This midwinter weather is dragging me down

The morning’s cold, wet wind chills my bones

Walking a block in it numbs my brain

The weather shares my confusion

As we are teased with a touch of heatless sun

Between the morning snow and evening rains

In one more week, the city will be living the communal flu

Doctors and pharmacists must love this time of year

The pervasive humidity kills my sleep

And wipes out the possibility of hibernation

It even fogs the travel agency windows

And covers the bright pictures of sunny beaches

As if to block the respite of fantasy vacation

The city becomes lackluster and duller

I hate Madrid in the Winter.

Originally written Jan 26, 1998

Notes: My only excuse for this is must have had a man cold!

From my Madrid files on the Pub Storytellers nights. Where an eclectic group of expats, troubadours, and assorted, sodden wordsmiths gathered twice a week to share a few pints, tell many tall tales, and lessen our loneliness at our favorite Irish Pub in Madrid, Spain, back in 1997-98. I kept my scribbles from these nights and the poems that grew out of the stories I told. This is the first time I’ve ever published these. I hope you enjoy them.


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