On Rainy Days, Like Today

On rainy days, like today, too cold

for the usual summer pursuits, and wet,

it’s easier just to pick up the remote

and flip through 250 channels beamed

from space, only to find the best thing on

is a re-run of a re-run, an old show

I’ve only seen twice before – or thrice –

lounging back on the couch and asleep,

drowsy anyway, before the opening credits roll by

and waking in time to catch the next episode,

though I know “who done it,” same as before;

but it’s so much easier than picking up this pen

to pen a line, a verse, a figurative image

from deep within the memories’ recesses

just sitting there waiting to be re-discovered

and given its own channel in which to broadcast

itself, a re-run missed in the channel–surfing

of a rainy day, a summer day too cold,

a summer day just like today.