Biblical poetry · September 30, 2026
Diddle Diddle Forecast
Jesus said, “In the evening, you say, ‘The sky is red, so we will have clear weather.’ In the morning, you look at the dark sky and say, ‘It is going to rain.’ You hypocrites! You can look at the sky and predict the weather, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times.”
The forecast called for skies to fiddle,
With sunshine bright and not a dribble.
A cheerful high came dancing through,
With happy tunes the catfish knew.
The silly cat played fiddle by the gate,
Believing the weather would stay great.
She tapped her paw and sang with cheer,
For not a storm cloud seemed quite near.
But soon a rumbling diddle rolled around,
With thunder growling deep and sound.
The winds arrived with soaking rain,
And puddles formed across the plain.
Little Miss Muffet sat with pride,
Without an umbrella by her side.
She scoffed at the warnings she could see,
Then got drenched before she could flee.
The rain came down in sheets so thick,
It soaked her clothes and picnic quick.
Her curds and whey began to float,
And nearly sailed away by boat.
Meanwhile Farmer Brown looked up high,
And watched his cow jump toward the sky.
She leaped so far with such a joyous swoon,
She cleared the fence and crossed the moon.
She landed where the grass grew green,
In the finest pasture you’ve ever seen.
Farmer Brown just shook his head.
“That cow forecasts herself,” he said.
The low diddle poured all night long,
Accompanied by the thunder’s song.
Yet when the storm had finally passed away,
The high diddle brought sun the next day.
The cat resumed her fiddling tune.
Miss Muffet was dry beneath the moon.
And Farmer Brown still watched somehow
For weather signs when feeding his cow.