Reclaiming old poetry

I had a blog many moons ago with poetry on it. I’m putting some here, but reworked, like this one:

My grandfather
taught me

how to predict
the weather simply
by observing the flow
of the lake

if the water
had a northerly flow
rain was sure to come
but a southerly flow
meant sun

My grandfather told me
many things
in his sitting room
over a steady diet
of tobacco and tea
some I carry with me

some I’ve forgotten

but in all that time
I never thought to ask him
what it meant
when the lake
was as still
as a midnight cemetery
and the only movement
was the reflected wisps
of clouds floating by

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