a very August routine
spending quiet mornings
sat in front of a loud book
coffee still as bitter, still as dark
good morning,
sparrows nesting beneath our soffit
how do you do?
stillness stirred by internal nagging
i pick up the broom
and sweep the night away
the skies have humour
and they bless us with rain
and then, all too much, all too fast
so, our dining table hosts
a soggy spread
and soggier guests
sorry for the wait,
and sorry for the poor meal
and also, sorry for the weather.
damp laundry hovering over the bed
and a quick attempt to
dry tomorrow's uniform
smell of heat, warmth, dampness
and the distinct whirring of a fan
the tired head, so heavy
hits the cotton pillows
August slumber brings the joy
of a monsoon gone sooner
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