***

The air this morning
is a lake
-murky
and green
and deep

It always feels like this
after a rain-filled day
- an angry day
of clouds screaming
of lighting tearing
at the velvet of the sky

On days like these
I like to think
that he is somewhere sunny
- that somewhere
rays are playing
in his wild wild hair

that there are people
and dogs
and birds
and red balloons

that there are so many
happy memories
underneath his airy sky
that the depths
of the drowning lake
are dried out

and nothing remains
but a fertile ground
to plant the flowers in