August

The summer sun has made the air
Affectionate -- I struggle out
Of its embrace and I despair
It won't let go. I look about

And hope the wind will flow like time
Between the buildings. Where's the wind
To cool this love, the summer's crime?
The heat beats down on rooftops tinned

Like late November leaves. I long
For shorter days that tilt away
And lessen the affection's strong,
Oppressive presence felt today.