Over...

 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