August's gone. Again.
There's something about August. The sweltering heat. The weight of humidity, here, in the South, in NC.
When winter's here I long for the easy feel of summer's heat, and then it comes, and I long for the fresh breezes of fall.
A few years back I wrote a poem about August, "August Again". How hot it was. How hot I felt. Inside me. My skin. My experience. Took me back to my mother's mother's life, now over, gone. I, eager to have this hot humid August passed behind me, and she, her whole life, her whole self, gone.
How dare I wish for time to pass, even in this heat.
And now it's already happened: August 2010 has now passed. Another August gone. Again.
The heat may and will linger still. Coming and going, like a dancer teasing us. She can flit about as she wishes, but we know the show will end. August days have passed on to September days. Summer, as the Indigo Girls sing, "is beginning to give up her fight."
There will be relief.
North Carolina, United States of America