Poem for an August night

The air is heavy.

Thick with humidity,

The scent of over-ripe fruit

And a barbecue.

Summer’s last nights 

Are honey-sticky.

The leaves are already falling,

Worn out by drought.

The apples are red

And insect-marked.

It’s still too hot to

breathe properly,

But Autumn is coming soon.


Author: Alex

I work in a college library, and love reading, writing and drawing. I am a breast cancer survivor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: