August

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Depressing drizzle
soaks the outside screen
Waves of northern mist blowing,
Sky darkened before twilight feels
Like autumn, and not the month before it.

August is usually
A still month a
Quiet month,
With determination —
Looking to stay warm, and dry,
While fleeting fireflies
Of hope sparkle
Within the eventide
Moodiness of all our natures.

Ellen Martin Story, an avid reader and arts lover, is a retired human resources administrator who writes poetry in her wash-ashore Eden of Martha’s Vineyard.