Troubler of the pensive mind.
We who deplore heat,
Loathe humidity,
Shirk sweat,
Flee crowds of bikinis.
We who pine for crisp air,
Pumpkin hues,
Snuggly sweaters
Knitting needles and cups of tea,
For whom the fakery of
Air conditioning at last becomes
Inadequate
To our desperation for cool.
Goodbye, August,
We would not have you back.
And tell September we’ll take no
Lip from her either.
3 comments:
Ha ha ha! Are you REALLY afraid of earthquakes? I think you'd LOVE California. I would, too. It's WAY too expensive, though.
To summer and August I say, "good riddance!"
I like your poem! August drains the last bit of life right of you here in Texas. The grass crunches under your feet and the leaves drop from the trees, not in autumn glory but because the trees are so thirsty.
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