Almost August
Almost August. The year
has turned. You can feel the light
sucking at the sand beneath your feet
as it slides away into autumn.
You think back to childhood
when the days of summer seemed
endless, and time long enough.
But, when the school bell rang,
you woke with a jolt
into the mortality of arithmetic.
After supper, it was too dark
to go out again for very long,
then just too dark to go out,
then just too dark.
So you began to learn to live
with Night, admire her,
love her a little even.
Her nights were long,
but you began to know
time was not long enough.
by Nils Peterson
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