Paris in August

Heat curdles the air, makes it sultry and honeyed,

a palatable feast, that clings to my skin.

Jet lag lingers, I feel worn and muddied,

but this is Paris, a new world waits within.

I dive into this urban immensity

each arrondissement teases of more.

I succumb to the old city’s density,

and find solace in its lighted shore.

Tawny floral ribbons on the cite’s sills,

the Seine at rest, a calming golden flow,

wine on the banks, a night of quiet thrills,

our worries swallowed by the river below.

August passes, and Fall forces me home,

with a new hunger to forever roam.