Walt Whitman and the Weather Report
(After Robinson Jeffers)
By Laurinda Lind

in the twenty-first century
shakes the acorns from his beard
and lumbers forth to nourish
himself upon the air

Journalists ask him what he loves
and he arcs his arm widely
he loves speedcars
Big Macs

But late that night
in the light of a flickering T.V.,
Walt’s eyes grow dull as
he watches the weather charts scroll

And, rolling slowly
like a mass of clouds to the window,
he lays his big face against cool glass,
exhausted by the satellites
that circle by the stars, and hungry for
the healing shock of storm.

Laurinda Lind lives in New York’s North Country and doesn’t mind it. Previous publications and acceptances include Chiron Review, The Comstock Review, Cold Mountain Review, Indefinite Space, Trestle Creek Review, Ellipsis and Uproot.