A terrible amber

We were discussing, via email as usual, the time we spent together. How it comes back to haunt us (well, me at least) at unexpected moments, in unexpected ways. Shards of memory - a prosaic conversation on the 345 bus; sudden snapshots - the look on his face by the flowerseller at the station, him frowning into a book whilst sprawled across the bed. Brief moments that rudely elbow their way into my mind at inconvenient times: at work, whilst having breakfast, when smiling at someone else. Moments that, in his words, 'ask to be held up to the light of the present though caught in the amber of another time.'

Here's Jack Gilbert again.
Rain

Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.

I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Now
Suddenly
This rain.

Views from my window in my university room last year. I'd sit on my desk and stare at the changing light. Best part of my day.
These pictures are taken from only slightly different angles. You can see the tower and the steeple to the right of it, in the distance, in all the photos.