Whispers of August

The Heat of August

The sun hangs heavy in the sky,

A blazing eye that never sleeps,

Its golden rays stretch wide and high,

A fire that every shadow keeps.

Sweat beads slip down sun-kissed skin,

As fields shimmer with molten hue,

The air is thick—a breath within,

A world bathed in relentless blue.

Trees stand still, their leaves oiled tight,

Whispering in the sizzling breeze,

Birds retreat from morning’s light,

Hiding in the shade’s cool tease.

Yet in this furnace, life persists,

A dance of heat and breath and bloom,

The earth in quiet, fiery fists,

Awaiting evening’s cooler gloom.

Maybe a breeze will come—

A fleeting whisper, soft and brief—

To cool the brows, to hush the drum

Of summer’s fiery, endless heat.