The forecast harks to winter long ago.
I’m cozy and more rain’s about to start.
Like pre-drought January’s past, I’ve no
doubt weather will be wet. I sit apart
from stress and crowds, and traffic’s softly slow.
A front that fizzles out won’t break my heart.
I know that climate change is real, and yet
for half a week I’m able to forget.

(Ottava Rima)