September has a sickness and has laid
Upon the air, which moves but won’t abate
The listlessness and weakness that pervade
As heat and heaviness on all conflate.
The evening cool and morning dew imply
The fever may have broken in the night,
But as the sun ascends the morning sky,
Pernicious sickness manifests its might.
No balm may blunt its incandescent force,
No cure delirium alleviates,
One can but let the ailment run its course
While one’s own symptoms one self-medicates:
With water and umbrella repositioning,
As well as finding public air conditioning.
Oops. This is one that I saved last night as a draft but forgot to post. This sometimes happens, especially when one is writing into the wee small hours of the morning. Again, this really was written on the 14th and would have posted if I’d remembered to press the @#$*%#@ blue “POST” button. Sincere apologies for the delay!