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.
Summer storms have come back today.
The heat mixes with the sun and the rain condenses,
Builds to a crescendo and I am almost soaked on my way to the subway.
So much is different since the last time I felt the salt and skies of June kiss my skin.
I remember the darkness of the gathering clouds is nothing to be afraid of,
That the storm never lasts and the sun will draft prisms across the air of tomorrow’s early morning.
The wolves outside my window are quiet in the sheets of water.
Today is my day to survive.
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.