Fog Dynasty

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Ah, werewolf weather. I’ve been waiting to meet you.
I’m afraid of nothing. I’m protected by the Gypsy’s spell.
The thing about weather is it’s about clothes. Clothes may as well be as starched and fussed with as can be, but essentially they suit a need. Survival.
After a decade in the fiber trade I am the wool dominator. I have sacks of anti-Polar conditions threads, a lifetime supply of swaddling.
I watch you encroach.
Starting from after one single perfect week, autumn, and then the first chill night.
Autumn, the procession of highs and lows, playing with our emotions and hopes, and tee shirts and sweaters.
Until one cold day and an even colder night.
I’ve long heard of Serbian winters and feral beast. Serbs are Cat People and werewolves.
There’s no denying it: Serbs are different.
They ask me not to mention bad things, enhance the positive.
They love their homeland, please don’t contribute to the negative propaganda.
Write good stuff.
I tell them I love everything. 
They tell me I’m overly enamored.
Schizophrenic?
Meanwhile, this time last year I noticed the cold. I remember shivering at the Tesla museum. A year ago I was caught in the land of forests in my flip flops as the season changed. I was not prepared. 
This trip, going on months, devoted to the slow examination of the nation, flanks are covered. The looking up close and personal at the strands of DNA and Neanderthal strains, and possible vampire connections all tatted together.  
Last year I misread the weather. After four years in the tropics I can be forgiven for finding it cold.
It was you, werewolf weather.

 

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3 thoughts on “Fog Dynasty”

  2. Saturday at the library I entered into the guest book “Walk In” for the Smithsonian Exhibit on our ancestors, from millions of years to half a million years. I asked the exhibit host, a Southern Utah Anthropology student named Sterling how we can consider these millions of years old ‘cousins’ our ancestors. How can you call them human. She explained its the genus?, that Sapien is the species and that on rare occasions one species will intergrade with another—as we did with Neanderthal. Are you and I on the same wavelength, Christina? Nice Autumn poetry.

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