Sarah groaned while shutting off the sprinkler as the water department truck turned on to their street.

Missouri in August has heat so steamy you feel like you are in a sauna, or suffocating in the folds of an itchy wet wool blanket. The only cool note is the tinkle of windchimes hanging in the redbud Tree. The earth around the tree will remain parched and cracked until the next thunder storm turns it into sticky slick clinging mud

August is
A perpetual ending
Of wilting haiku blossoms
Of Heat and drought and rain on wind chimes
Of crisp leaflets capturing autumn’s promise and
open fields of earth’s parchment
awaiting to harvest and scribe
richness into Nature’s book with stories of Winter white.

Ann M. Chiappetta, M.S.
Making Meaningful ConnectionsThrough Media
914.393.6605 USA
Anniecms64@gmail.com
All things Annie: http://www.annchiappetta.com

Guest Anthony Corona, supported by Zoom host Chanelle and ACB Meadia streamer, Joe and I carried the torch successfully.

During the after-party
Marlene asks, “What’s the prompt?”

Ut-Oh! I had a major drought in my mouth.
August heat?
No!
The windChimes whisper,
“The pantser was having too much fun and didn’t follow her notes!”
= 75 Words

Prompt I should have given you?
Labor Day. 75 words.

School is soon to resume.
August is almost through.
The heat is still blistering high.
No air to breathe.
No pool to jump in.
Very little rain has fallen.
The earth is dry
And there are droughts.
All over America.
Oh, if only Fall would come
And blow a breeze
That would be delightful!
In my head,
I can hear the gangling of the wind chimes.
That in summer,
Remain still and soundless.

The heat of August may seem like a season of drought. I can’t imagine how my mother must have felt during the early part of this month’s Dog Days of summer as she gave birth to me unexpectedly on August 9th. The hot air lent to little stirring of breeze so windchimes would have no opportunity to sing during this dry summertime. I birthed my sons early during cooler months.