But They All Have Stings

Fields under thundery skies...‘I’m glad you’re going,’ I said. ‘You’re so damn inconsistent. Warm and requiescent one day, chilly the next. You can’t stop creating new things, but they all have stings. And, know what? We need dark. We need rest – nineteen hours of light a day is exhausting. Plus you… remind me of things I’ve lost. Things I had to let go of when I didn’t want to. Before I was ready. It’s not your fault, but I hate it. So, go. Good riddance.’

With that, I scowled one final time at the page for June, and turned the calendar to July.


Author’s notes
A drabble that sums up my general feelings about the month of June (and by the way, Flaming June by A. P. Herbert is one of my favourite poems; I urge you to read it if you never have).

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© Kat Day 2022