His favourite word was precipitation
Agog, we'd wait for it,
Windchill factors and average
Mean temperatures too, while once he showed us
How to make a weather station
He's dead now
That kind of geography extinct.
Its Climate Studies now, scaring kids,
Breathing in anxious jargon from
Melting ice caps and rising sea-levels.
Slide rules rip up thermometers, old Crotty's truths
Splinter into child neurosis.
I just can't see him
Wanting to roll that old tongue around plastic seas and
As glaciers scarper
He must be revolving in his urn.
Though pitying these kids
I'm glad I dont have any
-I just hope it all blows over