Meterologist.

They say predictable

like it’s a bad thing.

Like routine is rust,

like certainty is boring,

like knowing the ending

kills the story.

But I’ve watched the meteorologists

fumble their forecasts,

watched blue skies crack open

with unannounced rain.

Their satellites, their radars,

all that science,

still wrong.

And yet,

I could bet my life on this:

the second the first drop falls,

my phone lights up.

Not even lightning is as sure

as you,

texting me,

reveling in the storm.