Change comes in July
a hot wind wanting
routed by devout purpose
carrying on savagely until
in the night your heart goes roaming
do not be distracted by redemption
do not expect any notice,
the only tender
to your own ache, that beckoning star
the slow manifest.
let progress
be measured by stillness,
in the way you stop now
to listen for the birds
August comes, in time
Let summer finish her work
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