View From My Window

Until Then In August

August
the bitter hot month
of nothing remembered the warm wind
of the breath on my neck

flowers wilted
come back in May
when there are no stowaways
when there are no birds and bees

the dog is hot as he sits in the shade
his tongue lolls out of his mouth
as if he wants a drink of water

but there is no water left in August
we have to wait for September to roll
around

until then
the wells are dry

-(c) Aug. 23rd, 2004


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Until Then In August

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