Summer Taper

By | 1 June 2022

those were the best days.
pelting rain illuminating
the overcast pool. clouds
as bleak as that Christmas.
what to get Dad on the eve
of his redundancy? or my
mother, burdened with a
promotion in a job that drains
her? or you, who i might
never speak to again? this
is the scattering: like bolts
of lightning through clouds.
no silver lined shapes up
there today. but the air hums
with warmth. and our laughter
beats out the thunder. and

something we did well was
talk. about nothing, like
the constant patter of rain
on the pool. the drains
slurping the dregs of our
meaningless conversations.
all those familiar sounds.
now the thunder booms
like an echo of those days.
this is the scattering: rain
flung to the four corners
of the earth to find a
landing ground on our skins,
the pool covers, the hoods
of our cars. sometimes
it thunders. today, a whisper.

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