Brooding.
Days now are long and humid.
Nature gorges on swollen fruit.
Bees stun themselves with too
much pollen and
bluebottles die whilst fusing
with oven-hot plants.
Village roads bulge with streaks
of damp green while
trees grow silver-moss beards
on sticky outsides.
Thunder-clad rainstorm slams
into dried puddles
but pours under ground as claps
soon run to sultry.
Thatch splits when mud-stuck to roofs.
Walls become dank when water rules.
Atmosphere stifles small life underfoot
as August sweats on in murky brooding.