“Bring back the singing and the scent of meadowlands at dewy prime; – Oh, bring again my hearts content, ‘Thou spirit of the Summertime'” -William Alingham
Winds blowing o’er the rushes in blissful quiet rhyme,
…when summertime in August sadly pauses time…
Fading purple violets haunt fragrant early eve,
…as pumpkins grow in hiding, ‘neath
green’d and yellow leaves…
Ancient blooming petals, now fruited all around,
…adieu to springtime’s promise, now September bound…
Forlorn the nesting sparrows, songs sadly pausing time,
…as August gently saunters in blissful quiet rhyme…
Ravens cawing winging as Edgar wrote before,
…haunting fading violets while cawing “nevermore”…
Frogs fattened through September now croaking early eves,
…as pumpkins grow in hiding, ‘neath
green’d and yellow leaves…
Yes, August gently saunters, where summertime is found,
…recalling springtime’s promise, now
…September bound…
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© 2017 Melody Hamby Goss, own photo