AUGUST

In August, the rain takes a break and gallivants
all over the world, gathering vapor 
to complete itself


the yellowed grass sometimes sways in the breeze 
like a satellite checking out the weather

ah, poor Zinnia could only bow her head 
praying earnestly for a drop of water

while I sit in the shade - 
helpless -
while I am squeezed
of all bits of moisture


Sometimes the skies tease
with grey clouds and the  rumble of thunder

hope, like hot air, rises 
only to dry up - 
forecast rain is all fake news


still the garden waits
with baked earth and fat zucchini for her honored guest

A tongue-in-cheek piece inspired by DVERSE POETS' Poetics Prompt - Sometimes August Isn't Recognized - and linked with Open Link Night

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