august

in august

you clear the table.

slowly every movement

can become practise to live traceless.

summer is packing its suitcase,

hesitantly kissing the apples,

falling too early this year,

with its fading light.

every encounter with the world

aimed to be itself,

preparing to enter

the quietude of fall and winter,

to become a shadow of what is.

I want to swim one more time.

so subtle, that the lake looks

like a piece of dark green velvet.

no traces – just me and the water.

© Susanne Becker