Clouds

We are cheered by the arrival
of August, July having been
a time of monsoon survival.
We wake to early morning
onshore flow,
okay with the grayness,
we have no where to go.
Sunrise will bake it all off,
creating our wispy sky,
down here close to Mexico,
in the sweet by and by.
Nothing too dramatic about
our change of seasons,
clothes remain the same,
whatever our reasons.
We’ll soon have sandy feet,
be smelling ocean,
mixed with number fifty
sun protection lotion.
Our thoughts are
like clouds, just passing by,
some looking like bunnies
in our rain-free sky.
Sometimes those clouds weep,
forcing some indoor rest,
some good rain, roots-deep,
long-lasting, the best.
On those wet days we’ll find
an aura of calm,
with Grace-filled revelations,
a spiritual balm,
rejuvenated, enlivened,
renewed, for that matter,
eliminating the need for
deafening mind chatter.
Putting life’s doings on hold,
no electronics, maybe a book
from our shelves.
We’ll allow boredom to set in,
perhaps recenter ourselves.