Poems for Your Weekend

Poetry Rx: It's August, what Plath called "the odd uneven time"

Dear Friends,

Summer feels like the most fleeting season. It isn’t merely that the ecstatic wears nostalgic by August, but that we measure its weeks differently. Sylvia Plath captured this feeling in her journals: “August rain: the best of summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

So, I must begin by reminding us all that summer do…