Let's talk about the weather

She 

She left a year ago.

We had danced every morning at dawn in the thick of October, 

communed by the dock after I'd tossed bread to the ducks, 

unwound on the beach under a smeared auburn sunset 

and then she was gone.

A year passed and she had yet to return.

Yoked to Magical memories I walked in circles

through cold, damp days, telling myself 

she was not the one not the only one not the be all end all;

I stopped looking at the calendar.

Wednesday morning I awoke and she was there. 

Suddenly I was whole, aglow. 

I hummed “Ode to Joy” in the shower, 

sipped coffee black and rich, 

burst out the front door into seventy degrees
sun and blue sky far as the eye could see...

I felt connected

to the spandex-clad couple jogging through the park, 

the lazy arc and ebb of the Frisbee in the field behind them, 

to young fresh faces that glowed-
-and burned.

I felt connected 
to her everflowing presence

with a hitch in my stride, 

bouncing up and down like a bobbin on a purling stream 

gleaming with the spirit of her,

my long lost Indian summer.