August, the dry month

month of drought and salt‑mouth.

Cattle seek shade in the stream‑beds,

vultures are silhouettes in bare trees;

Luna burns

with the stars in the black heat of space.

 

We dream of lands beyond the sea,

a sea so far away

with wind‑blown waves,

shorebirds across the cool sands.

Night winds cool our dreams.

Come to us in our dreams,

here where there is nothing

but dry heat and bones.

​