August Is So Mean This Year

August has clutched us by the throats and given us a shake. Anything outside this month needs no oven to bake. She is straight out of Mars, warlike and suppressive for sure. Her heat index is outrageous, her motive is pure. She wants us to submit, to recognize her as the queen. She is as ruthless this month as I have ever seen. I wake up and look at the calendar and moan. August is still here I tell my dogs, who also bemoan. She keeps us in our houses after ten o’clock each day. The corn and wheat and barley are shriveled up they say. The grass is brown, the flowers are trying not to die. August, why are you so mean, I truly wonder why.