The Weather Today
What’s the weather like today?
From where I am I’d have to say,
That I couldn’t say if I wasn’t me,
So if I couldn’t say, I couldn’t be,
And if I couldn’t be and couldn’t say,
The weather couldn’t be some way—
It might still be some way to you,
But that would be a way you do,
And if I’m not here I couldn’t say
A thing about the weather today.
Perhaps the weather’s cold and damp,
Or perhaps the sun is like a lamp—
A heat lamp that’s turned up too hot—
But whatever weather is or not,
Another’s presence makes it be.
Any other thing will do—you or me,
A fish or bird, a rock or tree—
For weather never is a thing
Which alone remains a certain way,
But an ever-changing process
That is never not at play.
What else is there in this world,
But never-ending process
Into shapely patterns swirled?
When it’s us we say, “that’s me,”
When it’s outside it’s the weather—
They may seem different as can be,
And we may not see their tether,
But different things can be the same
If they always go together.
—Saint Andrew of Snohomish
Mormon Mouse 