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.