Hush, It's the Dog Days

August Days

The dampened hush 
Of low, gray, stationary clouds
Mutes the songs of summer-weary birds,
While the hum of an old AC
Is panting its way through the dog days.

Late summer muses in thin voices
That drip down, one by one, 
From a too-tolerant firmament, 
Wet and waiting
While the earth rolls slowly over
Like a sleeping dog away from too much sun.