August came and went. 

It was swift. 

Sometimes gentle, 


Mostly abrupt 

with it’s touch. 

Leaving me 


My hands 


To surrender 

My pride

That so heavily is 

Intertwined with

My need 

to control


My heart 

& mind

And circumstances that bind. 

August carries so naturally with it 





both holy 


wholly chaotic 

Whether one moves


Stays put

August pushes each 

To bid farewell 

To the summer songs

That the cicadas and birds sing 

The late nights of sun

And the slow mornings of no rush. 

With the transitions comes 

An adrenaline 

A rush 

For an anticipated new season 



For the last page of summer 

To break 

As a new chapter 


But, with this August, 

Transition is linked to 

This pandemic 

That still persists 

Even if we want to resist

Or dismiss any

and all of it. 

So, we have to slow down 

The new rush. 

We have to grab a hold of whatever we can

That sustains 

And lifts our spirits 


That also feels consistent 

In this different transition. 

So, I reach out for the hands 

Of my roommates’  

And near friends’

I hold tightly to my chair 

As my feet remain firm 

on my porch ground


I say hello to my neighbor’s kitty 

I walk through the gardened sidewalk 

I cook a meal 

And breathe deep 

To release 

To remember 

This too shall pass 

These holy moments around me still remain 

As the unpredictable new page 


To welcome me 

Into what feels like a chapter I could never write alone or on my own. 

September, let your song sing and lead the black ink. 

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