Friday, August 2, 2013

It Is August

It is August; the walnut-leaf
Though barely birthed begins to fall
Where lawn and garden’s languid sheaf
Is drenched with dawn’s dew-laden shawl

It is August; now the air
Is heavy with gold harvest-dust
As rye and barley’s treasured fare
Spill answer to a farmer’s trust

It is August; sun-flower grin
And sunshine, honey-slow and sweet
Induces us to linger in
Its afternoon of flip-flop feet

It is August; planting time
For memories of ebb and flow
…of tide to sand; its rhythmic rhyme
To recollect when cold winds blow

It is August; summer’s grace
As seed grows heavy with its yield
And we grow high on Queen Ann’s Lace
Fringing fence-rows of wood and field

It is August; on the breeze
We sense a bitter-sweet prelude
Of summer’s sanguine memories
Slipping into thought’s solitude

© Janet Martin

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!