Augusts

The determination of the sea

each wave a body of optimism, always hoping

to reach the next grain of sand

that compulsive yearning to know

just what lies beyond the dunes

 

destined to fail, like us, mired in a universe

expanding faster than we can explore it

 

joy and pain jostle in the trying

as we launch adorable rockets

that barely scratch the surface and

 

sometimes hope is so thin I whistle it between my teeth

sometimes there is static in my chest

mercury in my veins

sometimes there is the childhood smell of summer tarmac

 

then rain comes, and I watch dozens of Augusts slide down my windowpane

 

©2018 BY STEVE DENEHAN. PROUDLY CREATED WITH WIX.COM

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