"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.