August is my least favorite month. I anticipate it with dread. August is a long stretch of steamy melancholy, the month of Katrina, Gustav and Isaac amplifying thoughts of evacuation, endurance and plagues thrown down upon us. August is the month of monitoring the waves off Africa, of getting serious about stockpiling water and food, of closing the storm shutters and battening down the hatches, of deciding whether to stay or go. It’s the month we evacuated three different times, of wall to wall traffic, of driving like hell into the unknown and worrying about the left behind. It’s the month of weeks without electricity, trash pickup, mail delivery and living amongst coffin flies and stench. It’s the month of watching politicians mess things up even though they know better and knowing they’ll do it again. And again.

I want to sleep through August.

But on days like this one I can almost forget it all….

Sunlight dapples through
banana leaves as they sway
in a gentle southerly breeze
Shadow and light waltz to
their rustling music