Every year, August lashes out in volcanic fury, rising with the din of morning traffic, its great metallic wings smashing against the ground, heating the air with ever-increasing intensity.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
August is the month of the high-sailing hawks. The hen hawk is the most noticeable. He likes the haze and calm of these long, warm days. He is a bird of leisure and seems always at his ease. How beautiful and majestic are his movements!
August brings into sharp focus and a furious boil everything I've been listening to in the late spring and summer.
August in sub-Saharan Los Angeles is one of the great and awful tests of one's endurance, sanity and stamina.
Remember to be gentle with yourself and others. We are all children of chance and none can say why some fields will blossom while others lay brown beneath the August sun.
We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost.
The more violent the storm, the quicker it passes.
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
I don't think I gave 'Wings' its due. I was young. I wanted to light the world on fire.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.