The Second Half of Summer
A compendium of August
When I think of August I think heavy.
Humidity. Heavy headed sunflowers. Wet bathing suits flung onto a fence to dry.
These are the dog days, when summer is at its midway point. The maples and oaks are still green—they haven’t begun to gold, though they will soon.
What am I ready to lose in this advancing summer? Audre Lorde asks in her poem ‘Seasoning’:
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