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Steven Luria Ablon, poet and adult and child psychoanalyst, teaches child psychiatry at Massachusetts General Hospital and publishes widely in academic journals. His poems have appeared in numerous anthologies and magazines such as The Brooklyn Review, Ploughshares, and The Princeton Arts Review. He has published five full collections of poetry including Tornado Weather (Mellen Poetry Press, 1993), Flying Over Tasmania (The Fithian Press, 1997), Blue Damsels (Peter E Randall Publisher, 2005), Night Call (Plain View Press, 2011), and most recently, Dinner in the Garden (Columbia, South Carolina, 2018).

Steven Luria Ablon

Sunshine

            You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
            You make me happy when skies are gray
            You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you
            Please don’t take my sunshine away

People love a sunny day,
clear skies, dry air,
luminescent light.

As for me I love the rain,
a light drizzle, unfelt, fine
drops on my cheeks,

a heavy torrent,
soaking my clothes
until like atlas I hold

the great weight
of falling heavens.
Rain washes me clean,

splashes in every puddle,
runs rivulets in earth,
weighs down every blade

of grass, spills from every leaf,
the broad chestnut,
the speared pine.

— Steven Luria Ablon

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