Today’s poem has been chosen and introduced by Maartje Geussens, Head of EPQ and Teacher of English

How are you doing, in this miserable weather? Yesterday I saw a patch of blue sky from my window, and it was like I’d seen a double rainbow, shouting at my entire household (mostly consisting of confused cats) to come and look at the miracle.

But there’s something good about bad weather, too, and English writers do it so well. In Orlando, Virginia Woolf described the legendary Great Frost in Jacobean England, the result of a mini ice age across the continent. The Jacobeans took advantage by throwing big ice skating parties on the frozen Thames. Dickens was a master of describing fog and frost, making you feel extra smug as a 21st-century reader from the comfort of your centrally heated home.

The cold allows us to feel a bit gloomy, and I certainly think that’s the case for all of us at the moment. While I can’t wait to see another patch of blue sky (perhaps next week?), there is no denying these grey skies suit the national mood. We’re all a bit tired and fed up. It only makes sense that the weather looks it, too. Psychologists may call it Seasonal Affective Disorder, but as an English teacher I must call it pathetic fallacy.

So today’s poem celebrates terrible weather. It’s written by an American poet, Danez Smith, who has lived in a range of of the more extreme climates across the USA. At the start of the poem, they find themselves in California, where the weather is always mild and sunny. But what if you don’t feel mild and sunny? What if you’re feeling bleak, and magnificent, like a frozen lake? Besides, sometimes the sun is worth more if you wait for it.

I’m Going Back to Minnesota Where Sadness Makes Sense
by Danez Smith

O California, don’t you know the sun is only a god
if you learn to starve for him? I’m bored with the ocean

I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow
I know, I’m strange, too much light makes me nervous

at least in this land where the trees always bear green.
I know something that doesn’t die can’t be beautiful.

Have you ever stood on a frozen lake, California?
The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea—a field of mirror

all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you
is light & it’s gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you

& it’s so sad, you know? You’re the only warm thing for miles
& the only thing that can’t shine.