August

August, the climax of the year. Trees are lush and heavy. The fruit is ripe. A carefree laziness fills the hours. For a precious few weeks we forget what day it is. Every day is exquisitely the same. Nothing to do but complain about the heat.

But soon enough, that satisfying contentment is shattered by one dreaded sentence; someone you like quite well may utter it, or perhaps a stranger wandering close enough to be heard: “You can feel that nip in the air.”

There it is, in its naked starkness like a sumptuous August tree in January. We all know it but are too prudent to speak the obvious: the heat wave has ended.

Yes, August is passing us by and we are heading into fall. And then the second nail in summer’s coffin:  One leaf floats down, drifting from side to side, landing right there.

Today is hot, August still full of promise. I enjoy the luxury of my favourite month in delicious solitude, only every so often allowing in close family and trusted friends.

They know full well there is to be no unmentionable utterances as we bask in the blissful afternoon sun.

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