Weather Lore

A lighter note in this poem, which delves into folklore.

Weather Lore

I love weather folklore, old and strange,
That tells the weather is on the change;
So that if there is rain on St Swithin’s day:
Means forty days of rain, or so they say;
And the witches call forth storm so ill,
So no weather is ill if the wind be still;
March comes in like a lion, fierce, strong,
Goes out like a lamb. It can’t be wrong!
And April showers that we have seen,
Mean May flowers, grass so green;
Yet some is local, for Jersey alone,
Or so it is said, just Island grown;
February rain is the lifeblood of soil,
For potato planting, those who toil;
When the cows bellow day and night:
A storm is coming soon, take fright!
When the sky at Noirmont is overcast,
Be sure of the rain before day past;
And shingle sounds at Ouaisné beach,
Mark easterly winds within our reach;
And the lore that I grew up with, true,
Was red sky at night, that sunset view,
Means Guernsey on fire, so they say,
And ferry wars might go that way!