How Doth An August Day...

How doth an August day soft-fade

Like mist, sun-kissed and echo-frayed

In sunflower and loose-strife spires

In vibrato of cricket-choirs

In zinnia rainbows scattered where

Our step is slow and toes are bare

As dust and heat-sweet lazy haze

Winnows the street of August days

How doth an August day grow dim

And drain the summer of its vim

In moment-masterpieces blurred

In flit of finch and hummingbird

In orchard-fruit and garden fare

In poetry of yellow pear

It strums willow and poplar arch

And runs its touch o’er corn-field harps

...in full-moon halo, canning jars,

In blue lakes straked with silver stars

It falters in a mother's sighs

On altars beneath blue-some skies

In marigold and floppy hats

In lemonade and late-day naps

Soundless, it seeps from here to there

As silent streams wane summer's air

How doth an August day become

Peaches and cream, a purple plum

A splash upon bronzed avenue

In watermelon, rain-song, dew

It strips clock-ships of laughing hours

And scatters days like tattered flowers

While children clap and dash and play

There go-eth, go-eth August’s day

© Janet Martin