August Is Breathing Down Your Neck

The waves are growing cooler. Not cold, but not warm like last month, when the sun made all the difference. The sand feels gritty underfoot, and the Sun looks like it's shrinking smaller every night, in the west. Soon enough Orion will rise, and the beaches will be empty, and lonely. It all reminds me of a night more than forty years ago, when we kissed under the maple tree by the old wooden bridge over the bay, hating that when dawn came you would be gone.

And later you came back, but it didn't change anything.