"even the skies

can't weep forever"

No wonder why

my plants are

so happy.

I imagine my Dad

negotiating the weather

up on his new cloud. 

I picture him

very comfortable

and watching me,

his ‘Peaches’,

as I get off the last stop

of the ‘F’ train

and not agreeing with the rain

that is greeting

his sunny daughter. 

He was always good

with a remote.

And so I see him

clicking his clicker

and parting the clouds

as he coaxes

the sunbeams to hit

me evenly and gently.

My Dad was a weatherman

and always will be to me. 

I imagine if I ever get married

he’ll throw out a thunderclap

to remind his new son-in-law

not to be stupid. 

I feel him in the breeze

he sends in which he is

reminding me it is fun

to fly a kite.

by Angela J. Perry

After he died

it seemed as if the rain

wouldn’t ever stop. 

But even the skies

can’t weep forever.

And he always loved summer,

loved to swim. 

So I sit here

at this sun soaked table

on the Coney Island boardwalk

feeling blessed with a memory

and the sunshine. 

The parts of the city

my Pop wasn’t presiding over

had a cloudy day. 

This story is true.

Thanks Dad.