August

I mean the time of year,

Nothing to do with Pomp

And Circumstance.

—-

Have we survived

Another assault of heat

And growth

Stunted by dryness?

Will there be a sting

In the tail

Of autumn

Or the end of summer?

—-

The hotter-

The more hellish-

Our summers become

The more I fool myself

I am immortal

—-

And now that the nights draw in

I breath a deep relief

That I have had no adventure

Too great,

And my appetite for danger

Wanes.

——

And finally –

I can close the window

Against the breeze

As I lie naked on my bed,

And look forward

To opening

Onto

Tomorrow –

Another day of repressive heat

To be survived,

And adventures smaller,

Like ever decreasing circles

Of life.