Weighing me down, making me sluggish,
Like July’s humidity.
Encompassing blackness looms inexorably closer.
Dragging my soul, consuming my thoughts,
As oppressive as August.
Hatless officers sowed seeds for this Stygian vortex.
Bringing a wallet, leaving no doubt,
As clear as the license.
Denial does not fend off Augusts’ cataclysm.
Stinging my eyes, pelting my heart,
As shattered as his iPod.
Empty darkness lingers long after the storm abates.
Holding memories, bringing solace,
Like the end of a flash flood.
Thirty-four gifts are a bittersweet legacy.
Flooding 10 states, rebuilding some lives,
Like gold at a rainbow’s end.