August has no holidays because August is a holiday all its own.
The summer flowers are ablaze, and the summer warmth borders on heat, and the birds cross the sky, and who needs a holiday to love all of this?
Yes, I know on the other side of the world it’s darkest winter — or at least so I’ve heard, I’ve never been on the other side of the world, but I’ve been in darkest winter, and I can imagine there is an opposite place somewhere, where a place much like ours is covered in fallen snow and the mild temperatures of now are bitter and chilling. And no doubt the people there think of August the way we think of February.
But oh! August! Sweet warm August! With your dash of cold morning dew reminding us you are not here to stay — but nothing stays in this world, does it? So we love and rejoice in the moment, thankful that such moments drift by, a respite from all the chaos, a clarity in the midst of the mist, a promise that peace is possible — a possibility of possibilities.
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