Cold Fervor — a k o s i l e

August is moving like a slugSecond half of the warmth ishereSummer’s ardent beam is agrindThe popsies tan brownFodder bleaching hoaryBringing the hush and fury of merciless noonsWaiting for the heat to passBut the tick of the clock from a far-flung floorPaints a scene of growing grassNot anytime soonHumidity is whistling a tuneI won’t sit by […]

via Cold Fervor — a k o s i l e