It Was Raining in the City

It was raining in the city.
It was too cold to be raining.
Snow had been predicted, almost guaranteed.

The temperature:
fifteen degrees below freezing Fahrenheit.
And it was raining, not snowing, in the city.

The sky was hysterical, trying to sort itself out.
Clouds were bewildered. Weather scientists baffled.
Charts and maps and Doppler radar had predicted snow.
Nothing like this had ever happened before.

The snow plow drivers were standing-by under umbrellas.
The salt trucks, loaded with damp salt, were ready to roll.
Businessmen, opening their garage doors,
were overcome with disbelieving joy, no snow.
Blowers and shovels would not be needed today.
Children waiting for school buses in snow suits
returned home to change and missed the bus.
A man on Bell Street checked his thermometer.
A woman on Kline Avenue did the same.
The weatherman rechecked his computer.

Seventeen degrees Fahrenheit.
Yet it was raining, not snowing, in the city,
and snow was forecast, snow was expected.

Had the laws of physics changed?
Was 17 degrees the new 32?
In the era of insulted science,
had science vengefully disrupted
tendencies established over time?