Tag: August

The Dog Days of Summer

The Dog Days of Summer

The Summer began in early Spring this year
Bringing merciless heat scorching body and earth
Cranking air conditioners and spinning fans
Beaches and pools crowded with souls
Searching for cooling comfort
The solstice came and went
and the arrival of rainy season gifted relief
As it slipped into its seasonal pattern
Now deep into August the sky is full
Moving clusters of cumulus clouds
Drape themselves across the blue-grey expanse
Emptying in intervals
With thirty second rain showers
Now you see them, now you don’t
Pouring on one side of the street,
Not the other
The sun peeking in between
Painting her rainbows
And as darkness falls mosquitoes come to life
Sending their targets scurrying
for the cover of citronella
Heat lightning glows red in the night sky
And thunder’s drum roll announces its presence


Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved



August in Florida is God's way of reminding us who's in charge. -- Blaize Clement

Mish is hosting Open Link Night at D'Verse. This poem is in response to Sanaa's
prompt of The Month of August from Thursday night's D'Verse. I was running too late to post it!

Hurricane Season – A Haibun

Hurricane Season

August here in the south is so hot you can fry an egg on the hood of your car.  The sun burns your shoulders while you hurry from the car to the store and are grateful for some cool air conditioning relief.  The humidity is so high you sweat buckets.

It is the season for hurricanes so we are stocking up on bottled water, batteries and other necessary supplies to sustain us and keep us safe.  In the event we find ourselves in the of path of a monster, we will have to ‘hunker down’ as is the language of the storm watchers.  We are always thankful for the generator we purchased a few years ago and have not yet had to use, and we will worry once more about whether or not we should have invested in hurricane shutters.  We will know by November’s end if we won that gamble or not.

The names of the storms become so familiar, creeping into our everyday conversations as if they are real people living with us.  For years after we refer to them as if they were distant relatives who had come to stay for a while.  They were either good houseguests or not depending on the damage left behind.  

Those hot August nights
Moisture still hangs in the air
Fan works overtime


Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Frank Tassone is hosting Monday Haibun at D'Verse Poets and has prompted
us with writing a Haibun about August.

Image by Oberholster Venita from Pixabay 
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