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# Foul Weather Friend
- URL: https://www.andyposner.org/foul-weather-friend/
- Published: 2026-10-13T06:34:56.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-13T14:28:30.000Z
- Author: Andy Posner
- Tags: poetry

I am a foul weather friend.  
I have paid you no mind when spring rains  
wash clean the marble statues of gods  
and a cheery sun  
reads aloud your sweet inscriptions,  
nor when awed children skip through museums,  
nor accordion-song fills the subway,  
nor a stranger does another stranger  
a kindness,  
nor blueberries are so ripe they bleed sugar,  
nor velvet chocolate cake knocks you dizzy with love,  
nor, after making love, my wife’s perfume  
clings to my skin until morning,  
nor the braying of wolves reminds me  
that the moon can’t sleep either,  
nor a woodpecker completes all the work  
there is to be done and rattlesnakes still their rattles,  
despots loosen their grip, and the world  
sleeps like a cistern at long last full of water.  
  
Now I come to you wrapped in rags  
too worn to carry your ink.  
My blistered feet require your care.  
I am as the child untouched by illness  
who is angry to be ill;  
I rage  
at the putrid snow and the weak sun  
that won’t melt it, at all that cruelly  
persists  
though there are few  
that wish us harm,  
for are not most fundamentally  
good?  
Will they not open their door to you,  
show you the way when you  
are lost?  
How then did it come to this?  
I have found refuge in your library.  
A mob that does not know my name,  
that knows only that I am in a library  
and must therefore suffer at its hands,  
soaks the grass with gasoline,  
but I do not run:  
I am reading  
by light of the fast-rising flames  
the works  
of the immortal poets.