Scribblings in Booth 3: Unfinished Poem of the Day "Harold Malone and the Weather Machine"

Harold Malone and the Weather Machine

There was a man called Harold Malone

We never knew where he called his home,

But he rolled into town in a Cadillac

And a strange contraption strapped to the back,

He set up shop in the middle of the square,

Put levers and parts together with care,

Within an hour, he was done

And a tall tower standing 8 foot 1

Pointed toward the sky, a weather vane spinning,

And Harold looked at the gathered crowed, grinning

And, arms wide, said, “Come and see!

This great new day for friends and family!

What you see before you will change the way

You plan your nights and start your day

No more will you be unprepared

For all the Mother Nature brings to bear

For you see, this machine can predict the rain!”

Well, none of us could believe our eyes,

A farming community, with such a device,

Could survive, and thrive,

And grow to four times the size!

We were amazed, enchanted, stunned

We knew that our day had come,

We all crowded around Harold Malone,

Thanking him for what he had done ...

I know where I want it to go and frankly I have the last line, which I don't want to add here, because it will just seem so out of place.    This is based loosely on a story I heard once about a man who predicted the weather - a sort of snake-oil salesman.  Needless to say, it didn't go well for him.   Don't know if the story had historical truth or was complete fiction.  This poem is what you might consider a folk-retelling.  However, I know I won't be able to finish today, but since I promised a poem-a-day I'm gonna let Verble publish it here and see if I come back to it at some point before the year is out. 

Knowing how I work, I'll probably come back upon it again in August 2019 and say "Hey I remember I was gonna finish that!" 

MR

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