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Today

August: a magical time to lose track of timeโ€ฆ ๐Ÿ•ฐ๏ธ

August: a magical time to lose track of timeโ€ฆ ๐Ÿ•ฐ๏ธ

a poem, an ode, a reminder of what August is and is not.

August โ™Œ๏ธ
is not
Summerโ€™s end ๐ŸŒ…
or almost Fall ๐Ÿ‚
Not really an end
or beginning at all

August is the peak ๐Ÿ”๏ธ
of Summerโ€™s energy โšก๏ธ
Slowing ๐ŸŒ
to a warm, steady
hum ๐Ÿ‘‚
of bees & locusts ๐Ÿ
through the day
to the rhythmic serenade
of crickets ๐Ÿฆ—
when the day
is done.

August is slow
Mornings,
pausing for long
sips of coffee โ˜•๏ธ
in the garden๐Ÿชด
while bare toes ๐Ÿฆถ
taste dew drops ๐Ÿ’ง
on cool grass ๐ŸŒพ

August is long
Nights, ๐ŸŒ˜ โœจ
where the heat of the day โ™จ๏ธ
lingers to kiss ๐Ÿ’‹
the cool evening air ๐ŸŒ€

August is best
savored, slowly,
drip, by drip,
each moment โณ
carefully collected ๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿฝ
like drops of golden
Sunlight ๐Ÿ”†
tucked away
to warm the soul ๐Ÿซถ๐Ÿฝ
on cooler days. โ„๏ธ