Tuesday, July 31, 2012


 With the 'mellow full-moon'  it really is a beautiful farewell party.

Leave then, leave
If you must
Over a carpet
Of cricket-tuned dust
Over the skyline
To bygone beyonds
Over the echo
Of lost, empty ponds
Over the slumbering
Wild-bloom as it nods
Over the platoon
Of  green goldenrod
Over the farmer
Who lays fast asleep
Over the woodland
Mysterious and deep
Over the moments
That ceaselessly rush
Over the mellow full-moon
Midnight hush
Leave then, Sweet July
Leave if you will
August trips lightly
Over the blue hill

© Janet Martin

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