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.

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Author: Alex

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

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