August Erik Kormann 2008

August.
Summer is at the peak of its splendor.
In my garden, nature explodes - flowers and herbs, grasses and fruits, tomatoes and beans grow wildly together as if there were no tomorrow, pampered by countless hours of sunshine and tropical temperatures, watered and envied in the sweat of my brow.
The days still seem endless, the light long turned on before I open my eyes in the morning, life still unfolds outside the four walls even after the fox and the hare have wished each other good night hours ago.

August.
The unbearable heat of the past weeks has retreated, making way for a gentle, cool, silky warmth that softly drifts through the rooms, taking with it all that is hot, musty, stale.
The skin fits again, the breath is calmer and deeper, the nights are no longer an everlasting struggle with damp sheets, buzzing mosquitoes, and an indefinable am I awake or dreaming.
Sleeves and skirts are still short, the sun-kissed skin still revels in sunscreen, and light delicacies remain at the top of the menu.
And yet - individual withered leaves adorn the lawn in the morning, harvested grain fields rest after their labor, the melody of summer loses its exuberance, becoming quieter, more contemplative, deeper in its sound.
A premonition, a whisper, hidden signs of passing announce the end of the green, radiant endless time, dipping some late afternoons in deep green, gold-speckled light, interspersed with individual streaks of amber and ochre.

August.
Cool, green, herbal veils rise from my skin, very bright, very fresh, almost astringent - "Cologne!" flashes in my mind and disappears immediately, yielding to the image of a green, still unripe mandarin on the tree, dull shining in the moist coolness of the early morning.
I must come close to it, very close, to reach its scent, which hardly distances itself from it, surrounding it like a delicate, fragile aura.
Dark, damp foliage and twigs weave their aromas with unsweetened, tart acidity, providing protection and shade, a cool refreshment with almost unbearable restraint.
I wait for the ripening of the mandarin, for juice and sweetness, warmth and spice - yet "August" merges with my skin, becoming softer, more delicate, skinnier, without ever shedding its protective shell, showing me its golden heart, fading, withdrawing, blowing away...

Stay a while, it would be so beautiful!