August

August Leaves

August

By David De Jong

While early leaves, traverse to descend,
Black birds gather on cumulative wing.
Warm breezes tarry in new found song,
Coaxing trees come join the ardent throng.

Whispering, hushing, a harvest moon,
Lone monarchs search the fading bloom.
Cicadas answer, their ancient roll,
Amplified in one grand crescendo.

Seed heads bursting, on the switch and brome.
Fuel for the finch, as she journeys home.
Early sunsets, narrow swept dew,
Enticing mystery to its view.

The velvet has left the stately crown,
As the whitetail’s hair, loses its brown.
Crickets sing, where the fireflies glowed,
While ants scurry, getting harvest stowed.

Warm breezes carry a new found song,
As rhythms of summer, bid so long.

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