Even after four years post-grad, August still brings the same excitement of a new school year. And with it, the desperate desire to soak up the last of summer’s fun.
Manjit Thapp’s book, Feelings: A Story in Seasons, remains on my desk all year round. Her illustrations about the changing seasons affecting her moods is incredibly relatable. I find myself flipping through it every few months. In Chapter Two, Late Summer, she talks about how she is wilting under the intense heat. How she knows she will regret wasting the last of summer, hot and bothered.
Every July, I find myself hiding indoors. Escaping from the heat I so desperately prayed for only a few months prior. But when August rolls around, the looming end of summer makes me leap into action.
For now, I’m trying to channel my honeymoon. I am thinking about the wild sun that poured over us day after day, the smell of sunscreen that bore into my skin, the googles I wore on the top of my head, and the dripping bathing suit I walked everywhere in.
To welcome August, I have some beachy/lovey poems below… because evidently there’s something about the ocean that makes us all romantics.
Honeymoon Poem
Sleeping With You by Ellen Bass
Is there anything more wonderful? After we have floundered through our separate pain we come to this. I bind myself to you, like otters wrapped in kelp, so the current will not steal us as we sleep. Through the night we turn together, rocked in the shallow surf, pebbles polished by the sea.
The Roses by Mary Oliver
One day in summer when everything has already been more than enough the wild beds start exploding open along the berm of the sea; day after day you sit near them; day after day the honey keeps on coming in the red cups and the bees like amber drops roll in the petals: there is no end, believe me! to the inventions of summer, to the happiness your body is willing to bear.
The Secret by Jeffrey McDaniel
When you were sleeping on the sofa, I put my ear to your ear and listened to the echo of your dreams. That's the ocean I want to dive in, merge with the bright fish, plankton, and pirate ships. I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you and ask them the questions I would ask you. Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke rising from a chimney? Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing? I don't wish I was in your arms. I just wish I was pedaling a bicycle towards your arms.
Thanks for reading! Happy August!