Summer Rain

An early summer afternoon
I'm sitting in the shade
On the front porch
Remembering your eyes.

Did you know
How I watched them
Dart with sparks and lightning,
Or hover like slow, dark clouds,
Low against the mountain
On rainy spring days?

Did you know
How you let me read you
And didn't leave out anything
That you sometimes hid behind
Pleasant words
And a beautiful smile?

Even when you were sad
And lonely,
I knew the world
You kept alive
Inside.

Your eyes were always
Open wide
With passion and wonder,
With music and art.

Your mind was always
Bright and clear
Alive and growing
Like tiny purple wildflowers
At the fast-receding edge of winter,
Dancing in the slightest breeze.

I found myself there
Always waiting
In the wings,
Watching your world
In peripheral vision
Wishing,
When I dared,
Hoping,
One day
One night
You might look into my eyes
And find something there
Worth keeping,
Worth loving.

All these things
I never said
aloud,
Never explained
When the chance was mine.

Instead I chose to close my eyes
And soak up whatever
Sunshine
I could wring
From a glance
Or a word,
Any touch of your hand
Or your world.

Biding the days
That floated by
Us both and ended
Too soon. Biding
The time
I never even
Owned.

Content--
Was I?--
To let you move me
Inside.
Outside,
Invisible.

What is it they say
About the past?
It's over and gone.
You can't live there,
But visiting hours
Are any afternoon.

Today
Will be another hot one;
I'm looking forward
To an afternoon
With a cool cloud
In the sky
And a breeze to stir
My memory
Of a new past.

An early summer afternoon
I'm sitting in the shade
On the front porch
Remembering your eyes,
The way your world
Carried me
That I never could explain
Without a metaphor.

Like currents in the river
Below the falls.
Uneven eddies carry,
Lifting, spinning, twisting, bending
Up and down, 'til you reach the shore;
Real, tangible, familiar and dangerous.
All you'll ever see of them
Is a thin, weaving seam
Stitched across
An otherwise smooth glass surface.

When the river runs dry
You can walk where you flew.
You can wave your arms
Without resistance.
Breathe
Without drowning.
Step
From rock to rock,
Without losing your balance.

It's summer that's hardest
To take.
On bad days
I walk to the reservoir
Alone.
Through tall dead weeds,
Dry dusty trails.
Through long hot months,
Days,
Seconds
Ticking emptily away.

Through worn out memories
Of sparkling spring mornings
Bleached white by the sun.

Standing on the burning rocks,
Memories can't quench my thirst
Or sooth my parched throat,
My parched heart.

It does no good remembering
Falling,
Wind in my face,
The roar of the falls,
A cold slap of water,
Writhing currents tugging
At my limbs
Dragging me downstream
Pleasantly off balance.

It's no use
Trying to fathom
That lying on shore
Staring up at the sun,
Hot rocks against my back,
Felt good.

I'm forgetting the color of your eyes--
Or have I only lost the flying feeling?
Springtime feels so far away
But I'm biding my time.

I wait in the shade
On my porch,
Under the veranda
Until summer storms
Cool the air, cover the blue sky,
And send everything falling
Back into place.

After the rain,
I'm flying again.

--shaun roundy