She’s at it again, capricious Universe
She never stops cutting capers
Playing at blizzards back East, bopping
Like an adolescent at a school dance

Camping out on Venus and Mars
She tosses stars across the night sky
And lights orange fires at day-break
Warming flowers into jewels and pastels

When you see them in yellow
You know the Universe is laughing
Pink is her Cosmic “I love you! I do!”
Yep! Here she goes again and …

Now in California we can
Hear the splatter of rain on the roof
Fat drops to reconstitute dry earth
Wet is the promise of summer and
crops of  almonds and artichokes
avocados, oranges and cherries

© 2011, poem, and photo, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved


“Everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it,” is a quote often attributed to either Mark Twain or his contemporary Charles Dudley Warner, a newspaper editor. Tongue in cheek for sure, but imagine a personhood, a Universe expressing itself as weather, making a show of her peculiarities. How would you characterize her? Mercurial or consistent? Mean-spirited or generous? Does she seem random only to turn out to be intentioned?  Is the Universe a she or a he? Tell us in poem or prose. If you feel comfortable to do so, share your work or a link to it in the comments section below. Work shared in response to eaerch Wednesday Writing Prompt is published in The Poet by Day on the following Tuesday.


  1. Hi Jamie,
    Here’s my third response:

    As Billpayer

    Universe looks at the upkeep
    of stars and planets,

    heating and lighting costs,
    orbital maintenance,

    monitor of natural entropy
    scratches its head, goes for a walk,

    amongst birth and death, waits
    for unexpected comet of a solution.

    Tighten Orion’s Belt, slow down growth,
    non interference, allow the inevitable.

    Cosmic gusts are harsher in austerity.
    It must calm the arrival of storms.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Know the lack of rain you’ve suffered from. My daughter lived in Folsom. Thought a poet might enjoy this quote from one of my humans SS. “I truly hope that I may find, Enough wisdom in my mind, To understand that others thoughts may be, Equal to those that arise from me.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hi Jamie,

    My second response:

    The Lost Sock

    The universe tries to find a lost sock.
    Life is unbalanced with only one.

    It is awkward over tiles, one foot cold,
    the other warm, as if half in, half out the house.

    Or in front of a fire, a part of you blisters,
    a part freezes, a summer one side, winter the other.

    How does one sock get lost in the wash?
    Is it rammelled up in bedsheets?

    No one else to blame when your not a multiverse.
    Universe looks after itself in a bedsit of stars.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Your Wednesday Prompt response:

    A Weather Bouquet

    Sunny days and dispositions,
    Cloudy shower-stalls and skies,
    Rainy reigns and piled munitions–
    These make heartleaps, sadness, sighs.

    Eddies, tiny or galactic,
    Swirl our joy and fear and grief–
    Posit: hailstorm prophylactic:
    Yields some hail to the Chief.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Thanks Jamie.My first response-

    . the weather man .

    i said it were a lovely day, i did not mean the weather.

    i talk about the feeling, the mood that did not change, all day,

    little tasks that please. planting chives in treacle tins, ironing pyjama pants,

    and cotton handkerchiefs.

    he warned me the rain would come, and when it did

    heavy, we tucked in tight here, enyoyed the darker


    soon, the rain will stop.


    Liked by 1 person

  6. Morning Jamie,

    Here’s my first response:

    The Divorce of Heaven And Hell

    The excess of roads leads to the wisdom of palaces.
    The wrath of tigers are wiser than the instruction of horses.

    Multi gendered I hang wet washing
    on the horse nebula. Iron 3d to 2d.

    I have domestics with myself.
    Air turns blue and galaxy neighbours
    hear my gusty rant and rain rave

    Bang on thin wall between
    dimensions. Our star children

    weep beneath my screams. Remind
    myself never to drink and argue again.

    Tell my other half it needs to pull
    its weight. I can’t be aware of all

    that happens or needs doing.
    Neighbours are different sides to me.

    Our star children turn from
    wild blue things to yellow average kids
    to red in the face before their fire dies.

    I must stop falling out with myself,
    as it is always me deals with the fallout.

    I multi task a weather of constellations. I cope.
    I’m multi versed. Too many different sides.

    Liked by 1 person

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