Seasons of madness

His reality shattered on a night in July.
From the tenth floor window of the psych ER,
I watched an approaching storm in the distance.
The lightning illuminated his visions,
And the tumbling rumbling of the thunder
Could not drown out the threatening voices.
The heat was as oppressive as my despair.

One day, many weeks later, the wind at last
Turned from the north, bringing a hint of fall,
And I drove against it, through parched prairie,
To what was known in less enlightened days
As the insane asylum. The sun, angled now from the south,
Shone on dark brick buildings and steel bars,
As I waited for the door to be unlocked.

Today I ring the buzzer with his jacket in hand,
A sad symbol of how long he’s been locked away.
Now the sun is setting when I leave the ward,
And I drive the lonely road in utter darkness.
The night is cold, and the earthy smell of fall
Evokes memories of happier times,
Golden days, before the seasons of madness began.