Absent here, missing mind.
Brain fogs abundant as is the rain.
Running amok in puddles of mud,
Awaiting something people call summer.
A bright moon carries me, clarity returning.
Craning my neck to see,
Shielding my ears to better hear
and a taste returns with a week of rest.
A flash of heat keeps me warm until the sun rises,
Exposing the fog of the absent mind of not just me.