It Is So Warm For Early In December
It is so warm for early in December the birds are panting and scarce a puff of breeze
And the tar is boiling on the sunlit roadway in temperatures of over thirty degrees
How come it's so warm this early on in Summer? we hear the scientists talk of the ozone hole
If this be true we have influenced the weather and the temperatures not beyond our control.
Some scientists claim it's due to man's pollution that we experience the weather extremes
The water now is down to a slow trickle in the polluted rivers, creeks and streams
Three weeks ago the low lying paddocks flooded the changes a few warm weeks can bring
And the farmers they are praying for rain already although we've had big rainfalls through the Spring
Each year the Summer temperatures keep rising and the warm weather goes into late Fall
And despite the first week of heavy rains the weather bureau
claim it's been the warmest November of them all
'Twould seem the coastal towns will do well for Christmas and traffic jams on the highway to the sea
And New Year's day will find them by the ocean the working man and his wife and family.
It is so warm for early in December and Summer days have only just begun
And people already wearing their sun hats and sun screens to keep away the cruel rays of the sun
And some scientists claim that the extremes of weather is or was never beyond our control
And that modern man who creates much pollution is responsible for the big ozone hole.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Warm August Day In Old Duhallow
A warm August day in old Duhallow far north of here and miles away
And swallows high o'er sunlit meadows scenting sweetly of mown hay
And songbirds silent on the hedgerows in Summer you seldom hear them sing
they always pipe their finest in the prime months of the Spring.
A warm day in August in the fields of Knocknagree
And old gray faced rook is cawing on high branch of elm tree
And the magpie he is chattering as into the grove he fly
From once seen and heard he's one that's not hard to identify.
A warm day by Clara mountain by the old Town of Millstreet
And the skylark is not singing o'er the bracken in the heat
In the warm days of late Summer he doesn't feel the urge to fly
High above the sunlit mountain for to carol in the sky.
A warm day in August and the drains of water dry
And the old man says often in August I've seen water flowing bank high
And the long range weather forecast is the weather will be fine
And that at least another fortnight of warm days and sunshine.
A warm August day in Duhallow and the farmer in short sleeves
And the temperatures quite pleasant around 25 degrees
Still it can't be very long now till the cool winds of change blow
And the Paps and Caherbarnagh will be in their hats of snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Cold Winter's Day
The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wonky Weather
Never in my life before, can I ever remember,
Such mild weather, at the start of a November.
The grey squirrels, in the park, are still running wild,
As the weather, for this time of year, is warm and mild.
At the popular pub, a way along the seafront,
Some people sit outside, to enjoy their lunch.
Some brave souls, have rented themselves a beach hut,
While, along the shore, dog owners exercise their mutts.
Girls wear dresses, which leave their arms and legs bare;
That it’s now winter time, they don’t seem to really care.
On the crazy golf course, players are still having much fun;
All so eager to try and score that, often elusive, hole in one.
The weather in November is traditionally cold and grey,
But we’ve really enjoyed a most warm and pleasant day.
I would guess, this is all to do with global warming;
That a whole new pattern of weather is now forming.
Despite the pleasant day, it still gets dark extremely early;
Even in the daylight, I spot the moon, all white and pearly.
Over the town, a veil of darkness, slowly, begins to creep,
But, it is still too early in the day, for people to fall asleep.
But, when to the summertime, I now think back,
Of pleasant days, I recall, there being a real lack.
Our patterns of weather have now gone all weird,
But, by the weather, today, my soul felt cheered.
There was no rain today: all day, it stayed dry,
And the temperatures reached a seasonal high.
In July, I can recall one particular, rain soaked, day,
When the wild winds, almost blew me clean away.
When I was a child, the impression, which I got,
Was that summer was hot, and winter was not.
But now, the seasons have all gone rather awry,
And the weathermen now tell us a different story.
I remember early one April, not so very long ago,
I awoke in the morning, to a thick layer of snow.
This phenomenon, they refer to as ‘climate change, ’
Is, indeed, making the weather turn extremely strange.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Weather Warming Up A Bit
The weather warming up a bit it's getting warm today
And people for the weekend will be heading for the bay
To do a bit of fishing and relax by the sea
To surf or go skin diving or have a sea side tea.
It's nice to leave suburbia it's nice to get away
If only for the weekend for a brief holiday
To walk along the tide line salt water to your knees
or sit back from the high cliffs and feel the ocean breeze.
A weekend from suburbia to breathe the ocean air
To lay out on the sand dunes on beach reclining chair
A short break from pollution and the humid and noisy street
Down by the country coast line a different sort of heat.
November is upon us and Summer days are nigh
And weather getting warmer the weather glass is high
And not one sign of rain cloud in blue and sunny sky
And myna's song sounds sweeter as Spring goes laughing by.
The traffic will be heavy on the coastal highway
From 4 p m till after dark on evening of friday
As people leave suburbia mum, dad and family
And drive towards coastal country town for weekend by the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On The Fourth Day Of March
The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.
A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.
The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.
The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.
There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The First Of 08
The first day of 08 a warm and a humid day
And weeks of weather such as this on the way
A furnace like breath in the afternoon breeze
In a forecast high of 39 degrees
From the constant heat their only form of ease
The sheep congregate in the shade of the trees
The renowned chirpers house sparrows the only birds one does hear
On the first day of January in the Southern New Year
In towns and in cities from here near and far away
The revellers of last night are hung over today
A cool change is coming in the forecast we do hear
As to the prime of Summer we are drawing ever near
The first day of January and so warm is the sun
And another New Year has already begun.
poem by Francis Duggan
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South Gippsland In April
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
Yet in the Parks and gardens of Wonthaggi Town
The mynas are singing their songs tell of rain
And the frogs they are calling in the roadside drain.
Though into mid April and the Winter quite near
The weather quite warm for the time of year
On the beach at Cape Paterson the sun lovers lay
It may rain tomorrow but the sun shines today.
Only six weeks left of Autumn the time ticking on
And quite Summery weather though Summer is long gone
The old coastal hills overlooking the sea shore
Have seldom looked this dry or this brown before.
South Gippsland in April a fresh coastal breeze
In the woodland is soughing in the sunlit trees
Utopia on Earth the South Gippslanders say
That from where they live Heaven is not far away.
The birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
It is more like weather in Summer or late Spring
The sun shining brightly but those brown hills nearby
A few hours of rain now would surely enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Day For November Quite Warm
The day for November quite warm with only the faintest sign of breeze
And starlings from the trees to the garden railings flying and flying back again to the trees
The weather temperature in the high twenties from 27 to 29 degrees
And in the shade of the gum in the paddock the cow sits and chews her cud at ease.
White butterflies out in the sunshine they do not like the wind and the rain
Why they like the calm sunny weather do not ask me since I cannot explain
Anything of the workings of Nature of Nature's ways so little I know
Of Nature's ways I know as much now as I did five decades ago.
The poets love Spring for Nature's greenery her beauty them always inspire
In their words they always laud the Earth Mother of singing her praises they never do tire
And the artists try to capture some of nature's beauty on their canvas the flora and fauna of the woods and the hills and sea shore
I know of so many fine artists in fact there has never been more.
The day for November quite warm even warm for the time of year
And on the wattle tree in the garden the song of the blackbird I hear
'Tis said when birds sing in warm sunshine that rain cannot be far away
The radio weather forecaster says the weather is changing with thunder showers later today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Reason for Every Season (My ode to the seasons and Indian summer.)
There is a purpose that God and nature gave us every season.
Fall, winter, spring, and summer always happens for this reason.
In the fall all the trees turn many cool colors and paint a wonderful hue.
Winter arrives the temperature drops and can make some of us blue.
When spring is near they say April showers bring May flowers.
The weather becomes hotter when summer arrives.
The summer also brings us June weddings and brides..
Without the seasons then life for all mankind would be just a bummer.
We all wish for our weather outside to be like a warm Indian summer.
*I got inspired this write my poem after I read the poems; ‘INDIAN SUMMER’ by Emily Dickinson and the other poem is called ‘LOVE IS LIKE AN INDIAN SUMMER’ by Sue Raymer Woods.
Definition Indian summer - noun is a name given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn, not long before winter.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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A Beautiful Day In December
The high woods are bathed in sunshine it is such a beautiful day
The rufous whistler he is whistling his song to his identity a give away
His kind often whistle before rain and storm perhaps a change in the weather is near
One knows it will rain in warm Summer weather when the songs of the birds one does hear
The golden billed blackbird is whistling he is singing his welcome to rain
How birds can sense change in the weather seems beyond humankind to explain
They can detect change in their environment them we tend to underestimate
The welcome rain in the warm and dry Summer Nature's minstrels happy to celebrate
The more that we learn of Nature the less about her we know we know
As the mother of all living life forms our wonder of her only grow
As well as feeding humans she feeds all life forms to our own selves we are not being true
If we do not love our Earth Mother and pay her the respect she is due
A beautiful day in December the sun shines on the woodland trees
And the songs of Nature's feathered minstrels are carrying in the gentle breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On The Second Week Of January
On the second week of January I hear the shrike thrush sing
His flute like notes so pleasant to them have a familiar ring
And Spring is but a memory and Summer near her prime
And that birds sing out of Season happens all of the time.
The piping of the white backed magpie his is a familiar song
By their songs Nature's feathered minstrels one cannot get them wrong
A pleasant Summer's morning 'twill make a pleasant day
And the paddocks of Wonthaggi scent sweetly of baled hay.
In a clearing I am standing surrounded by scrub trees
In such places the Aboriginal dancers had their Corroborees
They danced on Summer evenings before the sun went down
Long before there was a Gippsland or a Wonthaggi Town.
A morning on the second week of January with a warm summery breeze
And a forecast high for the afternoon of 25 degrees
One might say perfect weather for the time of year
North in New South Wales and Queensland 'tis warmer by far than here.
On the second week of January the weather warm and dry
And a goldfinch he is singing on a wattle tree nearby
And brown butterflies are dancing in the sunny morning sky
And Mother Nature's natural beauty is for all to enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Hearing A Magpie Sing
The magpie sings in the bright sunshine of a humid and a warm day
Perhaps he is telling us something that rain is not that far away
For birds do sing in changing weather on a very warm day when birdsong you hear
You know there's a change in the weather that thundery weather is near.
Birds and animals are more sensitive to Nature than we are since nearer to Nature they live
They pollinate plants in their feeding from Nature they take and to her other things give
They are more Nature friendly than we are and on her resources less of a drain
The huge increase in the human population on Mother Nature does place a huge strain.
So little I know about Nature and so much of her I'd love to know
I fell in love with her as a schoolboy now that seems a long time ago
A wise old lady once did tell me that when out of Season the birds sing
That they detect a change in the weather Nature is a marvellous thing.
The magpie he sings in the sunshine on a warm day of thirty degrees
In his song he is trying to tell me that he senses the rain in the breeze
He can detect changes in Nature of her ways he knows far more than I
In his song he tells me that rain is not distant though there's not a rain cloud in the sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In The South Western Grampians
In the South Western Grampians of Victoria the Summer hills are brown
And from Casterton to Hamilton the roadway winds up and down
The creeks are barely flowing the roadside drains are dry
And the sun is brightly shining in the clear afternoon sky.
In the South Western Grampians the weather mostly fine
And many days of warm weather and beautiful sun shine
An undulating Countryside and hardly any green
With so few groves and woodlands and few trees to be seen.
Through the South Western Grampians one may travel far and wide
But one won't see many houses in that brown old Countryside
A farming population and few people one see
In the South Western Grampians far Inland from the sea.
On the hills of the South Western Grampians there once were many trees
Where the Indigenous tribes in the Dreamtime lived and had their Coroborees
But now open to the weather those old hills look brown and bare
And the only sound the buzzing of the bush flies in the warm Summer air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Destiny Song
Destiny
Where can go that is bright?
Destiny
Can you take me along with you to that brightest place in the world?
Because I just want the light and nothing else matters much to me
Destiny
I want to go to a place that is warm also in order to escape that terrible Weather?
So destinny please tell me where I can go to get that warm weather
Destiny
Take me to a warm home that in the Summer has Aircondition and in the Winter has heat
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I've Been In Love With Nature
I've been in love with Nature ever since I was a boy
And a walk in Nature's quiet places is always a thing of joy
In woods and Land for Wildlife the wild birds chirp and sing
And the beauty that lives in Nature is an amazing thing
For our sins against Mother Nature we will be made to pay
The smog above the City is growing by the day
The rivers are polluted and pollution nowadays is rife
And an unhealthy environment a danger to human life
As well as every other life form unhealthy air, rivers and seas
Can cause terminal illness and give rise to disease
We will receive from Nature what only is our due
And what we do to her to ourselves we do so happens to be true
The average weather temperatures are rising by a couple of degrees
And sea levels are rising and pollution in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Please Song
Please
Bring me
Some warm weather
Please
Warm my body
With the sun
Because I can't stand the cold weather
Anymore
And
The cold weather makes me shiver
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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An Indian Summer
After weeks of waiting, our summer is finally here.
For our late Indian summer, we all give a big cheer.
It’s early October and it’s a humid twenty five degrees;
Following days of dullness, it’s hot, with very little breeze.
Alive with people, are those sandy beaches, normally deserted;
There are children, women in bikinis, and with men, unshirted.
Unusually, for this time of year, much flesh is on display,
And the ice cream seller is still doing a really roaring trade.
By weathermen, this sunny spell was recently forecast,
But their expert word was doubted, due to times past.
This time, however, it seems they’ve got it right,
And it is, indeed, extremely hot, sunny and bright.
Office workers sat on benches, eating lunch, are now seen;
Normally, at this time of year, they’d be sat in the canteen.
People converge on the nation’s many public parks,
And stay until 7pm, when the days begin to get dark.
With everything around us, bathed in sunlight,
Our once saddened souls, suddenly take flight.
We didn’t believe we’d see any more days like this,
And, rainy, dull days, we certainly don’t, at all, miss.
But, late at night, when we are lying in our beds,
We toss and turn and struggle to catch some zeds.
Woken way too early by the brightly sunlit mornings,
We rub our eyes and can’t keep ourselves from yawning.
People sit in their gardens, catching the sun’s rays,
On what could be one of this year’s last sunny days.
But, about the hot weather, we shouldn’t really complain,
As, this year, we may not see another sunny day again.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Girl's Autumn Reverie
We plucked a red rose, you and I
All in the summer weather;
Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,
Enjoyed by us together.
The rose is dead, the summer fled,
And bleak winds are complaining;
We dwell apart, but in each heart
We find the thorn remaining.
We sipped a sweet wine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The beaded draught we lightly quaffed,
And filled the glass together.
Together we watched its rosy glow,
And saw its bubbles glitter;
Apart, alone, we only know
The lees are very bitter.
We walked in sunshine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The very night seemed noonday bright.
When we two were together.
I wonder why with our good-by
O'er hill and vale and meadow
There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid
Forevermore in shadow.
We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I,
All in the summer weather,
Where rose and wine and warm sunshine
Were mingled in together.
We dreamed that June was with us yet,
We woke to find December.
We dreamed that we two could forget,
We woke but to remember.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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