Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Day 397: August Sadness

 

August isn't a very nice month is it? The dragged-out end of summer, days fading, sun shimmying out and the loom of routine in September, the scythe, and endings, of every kind. 





August - Dorothy Parker


When my eyes are weeds,
And my lips are petals, spinning
Down the wind that has beginning
Where the crumpled beeches start
In a fringe of salty reeds;
When my arms are elder-bushes,
And the rangy lilac pushes
Upward, upward through my heart;

Summer, do your worst!
Light your tinsel moon, and call on
Your performing stars to fall on
Headlong through your paper sky;
Nevermore shall I be cursed
By a flushed and amorous slattern,
With her dusty laces' pattern
Trailing, as she straggles by. 

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