When the weather is fine
Twelve Sundays ago, when skies opened wide —
Soaking the world outside my window.
I stayed in the warmth of my couch,
In the embrace of a new show.
“When the Weather is Fine.”
I wonder,
Was the title a mirror to that day?
Perhaps a subtle divine sign,
A quiet assurance,
That I too, deserve love, soft and kind,
As tender as the bond on screen, so clearly defined.
***
Thank you for taking the time to read this poem. This is the third out of thirteen.
Read others: