August In July
It is my favorite part of the summer.
The air gets chilly at night,
Like fall is reaching out the window and blowing kisses onto my cheeks.
I watch the sun set over Classon Avenue.
The street is quiet as Sunday mornings,
The moon shines on my back as the sun sinks beneath the skyline.
It gives me my life, it gives me my words.
For the first time in a long time, I find myself writing.
It’s like the world’s rolled backwards.
80 on an October Monday, light when I get off the G train on my way home.
The sun peeking through the clouds and the slight smell of saltwater and humidity I know so well as summer.
Girls in matching backpacks cross the road,
And four story buildings are starting to be home more than ever.
Its like August is here again, and I’m out of place in my sweater.
What a strange day.
Thoughts on the End of Summer
The train is strangely empty today.
Another work week is gone,
School begins again and the breath of the city changes.
Soon, the leaves will turn and a chill will be on the morning air,
Coats will come out of closets and cloudless afternoons on the pier will be memory.
Life is beginning to turn again with September.
Things are getting colder,
You and me.
There’s always someone left,
To pick up the pieces.
I want to drown so I can breathe again,
Feel a whirlwind against my face.
Let the wind blow on.
Fall is coming.
Tonight football returns with a smile,
And tomorrow the sun reflects
Through changing leaves of trees.
The air pushes and pulls my hair,
Braids it with the smell of leaves and sweaters
Chunky knits and moccasins and blue jeans.
It is time to begin again,
The season of repentance,
With a football under my arm,
And change in the air,
I can believe again,