Ye olde Yo-***, advises get thee to a nunnery of trees, leaves of sunlight scorched sunrises and sunsets to clear the cobwebs and recall more fully the good stuff,  like in Oregun,

allow it to resonant via ****** shots of temporal, but seasonal natural harmony, a more regulat visitor of the upcoming comes of good weather and the life by the water, on a tiny islansd, long lazy days, and a lessening of the
mental haze-ing

punctuating life with long walks and teardrops of tears, poetry suggestives, will be dropping from icy white cumulus every day clouds, moving to uncover the elaborate and running trills of colutara words lurking within, no more the blaring horns of trafficked sounds of First Ave., trucks fighting to de-liver-er the urgencies of consumption (a most excellent disease) and the potpourri symphony of marching bands blaring of ambulances, fire trucks, and the EXTRAordinary impatience of horn blaring taxis up and down York Ave., dropping off patients 24-7 at a laundry list of  "specialized" Hospitals with "views of the river in every room"

I miss the quietude noises of summer breezes tickling minds, trees frothing a
cappucino sun heated breeze to stir the blush and rush of words forming faster than the mind can absorb;

alas, alas, this same mind can never fully squeeze out the sins of memories of winter's travails and yet, the mere suggestion of my old friends embracing me, sun, wind, green landscapes, sea and land animals coming to greet the human interlopers makes me all stirred up, like watching white milk in black coffee spread its cooling affection and lightening the black; aerate and mixing the perptual continuum of my ever slowly chilling bloodstream streaming to mind
                               and I sigh, for many reasons...but in my heart, I am, and remain, forever a summer man...
aerate and mix and I sigh, for many reasons...

Absent brain surgery, the mind wanders following the sun's trajectory, wither?