June and July were heavy, lacking

They did not bring the lightness I expect from

Summer months, when it’s easier to breathe,

When everything glides including time

In a sort of slow motion

With a notion of continuation,

They days and nights seamless

As the sun hangs back, not so eager to drop,

Instead I was filled with a sense of ennui

And now it is August

Everything is starting to turn inwards,

Receding,

The hardening has begun.