Mother always called
a day like this
a “lowry” day
the sun hidden
only a threat of rain
not cold – chilly
she said it’s what
Dad called days like this
(something about his Irish heritage)
something else, though –
beneath the weather –
makes it lowry
an attitude, a state of things in general
an unnameable sadness for what could be
a miasma
a desire to wrap oneself in
a cozy blanket and
sit fireside
pondering not much of anything
feeling…
...lowry
Contributed to dVersePoets.com
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