End of August leaves
hang heavy & deep green
on trees
sated with summer heat
and drenching rainfalls,
ready to drift down
onto autumn grasses
and city sidewalks.
The air
holds a heavy warm haze
and the evenings
are noisily filled
with tree frogs and crickets.
Heavy blue ink-hued thunderclouds
rim evenings skies
with flashing, booming
murmurs.
End of summer flowers,
lean ground-ward
with heavy heads drooping,
bees slipping
carelessly
from warm bloom
to sun-blanched petal.
September hangs close
to the horizon
promising cool breezes and
crisp, sharp blue mornings.
I can almost smell
ashes carried in the air
from burning leaves
and simmering
cinnamon kissed cider
on the stove.
But not yet.
So I sigh
and step
into the sauna heat
that is
Tennessee in August.
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