August 2024
Author's Note: Each year, by the time August comes, I'm ready for summer to be over, for the heat to dissipate, for the subtle shift toward harvest and autumn. It seldom happens as quickly as I'd like, but it always happens.
august has whispered
august has whispered
her soft summer sighs
into northern dreams
hinting at fading heat
as care-free love
burgeons to harvest
august has whispered
seductive budding blossoms
into southern meditations
faint echoes of green lust
that will move earth
pushing past all restraint
august has whispered
melancholic murmurs
of verses virtually infinite
rushes of last breath
reluctant to leave
this field of poetry
knowing she must give way
must always give way
to september
Originally published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal
©2024 j.lewis
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