A Dreamer Looks At August
And now is the month for hiding away.
The heat rises long before we do and places a wet hand on our doors and our windows, ensuring that we stay inside.
The tea is iced now.
The flowers are gold.
This is the month to explore old ideas like an archaeologist, carefully dusting them off, holding them up to the light, deciding which ones are priceless, which ones can be tossed over our shoulders, back into July.
It is now when it all falls away - the worrisome schedules, the tiresome work - and we simply drift like toy boats on a pond.
A hot sun shines its spotlight upon our closed eyelids, creating vivid pictures only we can see, swirls of inchoate versions of our future selves dancing in the orange light.
While our minds are still we gather up all the goodness forged from the earlier months of the year, and polish it till it gleams.
We shall hold it in our hearts as the summer closes.
We shall hold it in our hearts as the summer closes.
In September we shall burst forth like the asters - colourful and brave,
replete with clean hope for the cold days to come.
