August

Beginning of the world's coming undone

— from the archive

August

August spills in through my windows
with smudges of sunlight, 
burnt umber,
casting deep shadows of willows and linden;
while the southern winds
sigh with abandon.

What are you, August? 
A melancholic linger
of the slowly sinking summer sun,
or the first glimpse of a rusty autumn,
the beginning of the world’s
coming undone?

— 02 August 2024
© Lana E. Taylor

ᚂᚐᚅᚐ ᚈᚐᚔᚂᚑᚏ