Deep Into August

August,
I am deep into you –
Into the heat,
Into the humidity.
Into the weeds that are not the same weeds
that grow in May or June or July.
 
August,
You have weeds of your own –
weeds that grow tall with plumes.
Plumes that want plucked
and dried for a fall arrangement
that might be made in September.
Weeds that take over the yard and garden
when weeding is late,
when mowing is late,
when the gardener is late to gardening.

August,
You came too soon,
will leave too soon,
taking summer with you
and the days for doing outdoors
what needs to be done outdoors.
August,
You are a thief,
taking what’s needed
from the person who needs it.

August.
There are many days between now and the next one.
Many days in September and October
when a gardener can play catch up,
tidying things that needed tidying
in April and May and June and July.
Rooting plants that need rooted.
Potting plants that need potted.
Planting plants that need planted.
Doing outdoor things
while time allows outdoor things to be done.

August,
There are still a few days of you left.
Those days will grow shorter,
but, maybe not cooler.
Right now,
just past the middle of you,
 I am deep into the depth you.
And it’s hot, and it’s humid,
and there is still much to do –
Much to do for a gardener
who came late to the garden.

"August rushes by like
desert rainfall,

A flood of frenzied upheaval,

Expected,

But still catching me unprepared.

Like a match flame

Bursting on the scene,

Heat and haze of crimson sunsets.

Like a dream

Of moon and dark barely recalled,

A moment,

Shadows caught in a blink.

Like a quick kiss;

One wishes for more

But it suddenly turns to leave,

Dragging summer away." 


Elizabeth Maua Taylor