i don't know where it is exactly
and I don't know if this is exactly how it goes
but i remember a story from the Bible -
a story buried somewhere in the Old Testament -
(and buried in my brain
since I first heard it)
where a man places a dry cloth
on a bed of grass.
the next morning,
the grass is covered with dew
but the cloth is still dry.

he places the cloth on the grass again.
the next morning
the cloth is wet,
but there is no dew -
the grass is dry.

i think about dew
and how in the extreme heat of summer
the smaller residents of the planet
survive in the bleached grasses
on the blessed droplets of condensation.
i think how
the beauty of August
is the promise of September,
and i wonder about the man
who lived thousands of years ago
and his demonstration
of the fabric and the dew.