Breathless
Tentative steps beyond my front door
Ten or twelve at most, can’t go more
Not boldly either, but taken timidly
No match for the heat and humidity
The skies’ brightest hue is haze
The air shimmers as if dazed
Blades of grass wither and wilt
Lawn after lawn a dying brown quilt
Thirty-one days without a breath
O, August, your badge is death
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2025
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