Poetry: “The Cry of the Weatherman”

Yo what’s up! It’s been a bit, so here’s my newest piece of poetry titled “The Cry of the Weatherman:”

“The Cry of the Weatherman” by Michael Metzler Jr.

At noon the rooster,
With an unearthly roar,
Summoned the horizon,
While the earth sang the song
Of the Forever Goodbyes,
A song that sang forever.
Then came the
Cry of the weatherman,
The weatherman atop
The golden tower, hands
Affixed to the direction
Of the wind.
His voice bled into
The earth’s song.
“Alas, the sky!”
He cried, “Alas, the end!”
The end is nigh!”
His figure perched upon
The skyline splits the sun
In two; I am too
Forever for his ignorance. 
“A storm,” he calls, “A storm arrives!”
Perhaps I give in to the
Transient dread, and set my eyes
To churning tempest there,
O’er waters rise.
But his chant is but one lyric
Of the Forever Goodbyes,
A song that sang forever, the voice that
Never dies, repeats,
Day after day, with each
Midpoint of the sun,
Into the endless.
“Alas, the sky!”
How amateur, the weatherman’s cry;
Yes, good sir, the end is nigh,
And always has been.