Weathering the Weather

Flash Fiction

Snow squalls kick down corrals in Canada. Below Grand Maris tracks drift over. Ghost pony fog fences in Highway 61. A wild horse blizzard stampedes Duluth and Superior. White sheets of steel saddle car after car, house after…“Last call!” spurs bars and dour dreams. My cold soup cools in a cup of candlelight.

“It’s just an old, sweet song that keeps Georgia on my mind,” moans Willie Nelson to a live television audience in Lake Tahoe. His tunes harmonize with snowplows and tambourines playing behind my forehead.

“Partners! Please, don’t melt on me,” whistle winds that whip crack red radio tower hills, dry docked harbors, and ice fishing shacks.

A long night is forecast for a TV weatherman stuck in Duluth. He spits his ten o’clock TV bit from his bright white teeth. Damn if he can get a good drink at his downtown hotel! He storms the bar town across the bay. Unshod horses roam its open streets. His time unropes.

Shifting geographies spook small herds through belly deep drifts to warm watering holes.

Satellite photos corral male and female. An outlaw sky parades an enclosing mood passed nervous windows. Enveloping climates replay notations to smoke and shake by like long running films without endings.

Afterwards, it’s surprisingly fresh outside! Sun shot breaths stoke unbridled air. The weatherman and his partner dismount and ride home on a plowed open road that keeps opening like the extra hole in Willie Nelson’s guitar.

William Tecku is a Lake Superior area poet and short story writer. His website is