Janet Fricke Combs

Ordinarily in Maryland
A February Tuesday would be cold.
A scarf around my neck, a mittened hand
Would clasp the collar of my coat. I’m told
Tomorrow will be sixty-eight degrees.
I greet this fact with trepidation, so
I’ll dress for Spring, anticipate the breeze–
But likely will wake up to ice and snow.
Oh Maryland, my Maryland! I’m peeved!
The simple task of picking what to wear
Is complicated. Short or longer sleeved?
Wool or cotton? Boots? Let’s say a prayer
That this is an anomaly—not forming
A year-long season known as “global warming.”