Memorizing Rain by KB Ballentine Fog ghosts edges the yard, house silent save the rain. Banished, you return on gray days to flirt around memories of a life I used to know. Tomorrow fades, today a pale shade of yesterday. Sometimes the truth is too much – like a blue heron on a blue lake, an excruciating blue sky above. Emily had it right – truth must dazzle gradually. Monarchs and mourning cloaks flicker the butterfly bush, wings trembling in the dew. Black walnuts drop through leaves, a rustle and thud scattering the squirrels, my thoughts. Stepping into the drizzle, I remember waiting for your phone call to end, for you to welcome me as I sat in another rain. How you beckoned me inside, and your eyes told me what our bodies refused. My body burns from that final time, embarrassed – still wanting you. Lichen-dappled bark looms beyond the porch in the mist, bells echo the hour – this last day of summer dissolving into night. Gyroscope Review 6!