All photographs are by Russell Bittner

A u g u s t

August is the month that always wins—
except when it decidedly does not.

To wit:

when spring’s proud vows succumb to wilt and rot
as lady love slips out of your slipknot;
or cabala and kids condense your plot—
and you, in retribution, flush their pot;

then August’s just another month that spins—
perhaps because September spurns her spot.

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