Meteorology Poem by Ernest Hilbert

You should know I've come to terms with weather
Since you left. I've recovered some small skills,
All those things I left to your expertise.
You loved to watch as storms crashed together
On TV, blizzards, flurries, severe chills,
Up nights forecasting divisions by degrees.
I'd glance out the window into the mist
And take a rough guess from the ease of bed.
Without your guidance, I'd wind up frozen.
I failed to listen or decide, and missed
Your estimates, how resentment would spread
In the dimming, snowed routes I had chosen.
But now, I hear the predictions instead,
Dress accordingly for the days ahead.