Optimum Conditions

My umbrella acts like an injured bird's wing
as wind and rain fight over it.
The faces of other umbrella-holders
are pained, stiff, scowling, so mine must be too.
I am numb. Our shoulders are caved in.

Later, for lunch, I cannot get warm walking.
I have not enough clothes, my eyes
run like springs down my cheeks.
The taxi driver says it was six degrees.
This is after two of us have run into the hailstorm
to rescue a lost program leader.

You would not want winter to be hot.
We noted the warmest autumn as a sign
that the climate was only changing one way.
But three hailstorms in a day, and as fine
as ground pepper! Fly away, umbrella, fly away!