Sunshine

Cold and wet

Thunderstorms douse the roof

Drops spindle downwards on

the bedroom window pane

and water the wild garden backyard.

The room is dark,

The air is chilled,

The bed is ours,

But I am alone.

Sleep only comes when

Golden newborn rays

Peek through cedar slat blinds

Dusting the walls in pale morning light.

It is fitting that

The only substitute for

The comfort of your presence

Is pure sunshine.

And yet

all good things

at some point or another

Need the rain.

I'm not sure what we needed, darling.

I just know that

I needed you.

And on mornings like this

when the sun stops at the curtains

when the rain rocks the trees outside

when I remember why you are gone

I find comfort in that, too.