August is coming to a close now. I turn of the air conditioner to hear the softly falling rain outside. I dream of unseen places, of low doorways and white linen on wooden beds. Cold milk and some fruit on a table beside a large jug brimming with wildflowers. There are trees outside, old trees, with low-hanging branches. Perhaps there will be a table made of wood beneath the trees with a chair. I would like to sit there with my thoughts or better still listen to the wind in the trees and the birds and the silence with my feet caressing the grass beneath. Perhaps I will be thinking of autumn showers, sitting in that flower-studded meadow.
sucking fingers dipped in honey
and for breakfast i had tea.
licking lips laced with purple berries
and for dinner i had milk.
and so autumn begins
on a starry night with a full moon.