Special Gift

The landscape is threaded with burnished hues
Of golden-brown and green
August softens her deep-denim blues
In a hazy, sweltering sheen
Rivers of Queen Anne’s Lace and Blue Strife
Flow over wearying sod
Pictures of beauty and longing and life
In gardens tended by God

Locust-song spars with the muted lay
Of a lazy, late after-noon
Willow tree arches bend and sway
To its warm and mystic tune
As August with subtle finger steals
From beneath my wanton gaze
The richness from its rolling fields
In a long and drawn-out haze

Daylight succumbs an hour too soon
There is nothing I can do
But kiss each morning and afternoon
Before I bid them adieu
Wading through rivers of wild-flower bliss
And ditches of golden-rod
Knowing full-well that August is
A special gift from God

Janet~

There is only one thing I hate about August...
...it passes far too quickly.
I revel in it
gloriously,
thankfully,
whole-heartedly,
with a silent and perpetual lament...