Weather Man (Covid-19 Poem)

The dastardly bastardly weather man
Keeps telling us that the sun shone today
And it will shine again, tomorrow,
And even when there’s rain,
Is there any really? 
If we can’t feel it
Can’t taste it,
Slipping down our noses
Dousing our tongues
With pain
And beauty
And all of the things that rain 
on a spring day brings.
I’m beginning to think the weather man 
Is a hologram
Or a comedian
Telling us things we don’t need to know
But want to hear.
And the prime minister
Is probably dead.

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