It’s the rainy days
When I’m more contemplative
When the heat is less of a threat
To my mind. These wet days
Eat at me, remind me of loss
But also of the good times
With the dearly departed.
Smiles, hugs, stories
Especially the stories
Which I barely remember
But were so important
To the teller, of how I wish
I had recorded them all some how,
Like that writer who saw his loss coming
And recorded Daddy dearest before he departed.
The gone have taught and told stories
But what of all that was never taught,
Never told, lost forever or bumping around
In another mind that listened more clearly,
Clearly more enthralled but the repeated
Guidance which I ignored.
Trudging through the sunshine
I wait for these days, rarely expecting
The rational mind, the thinker to return.
Hot days and hot work then steamy days
And steamy work and then a coolish day,
Part steam, part cool and the brain calms
Reemerges. But time to return the simpler,
Netflix and chill, brr, damp in air conditioned Halls.
