This August Day

This August day is like an unwritten poem and if I could I’d write it for you. I would tell you how tiny bits Of puffy white clouds skitter along the Open expanse of the azure sky. They sail along just as leisurely as the Many boats that bob up and down on The gentle undulations of the Wind-kissed lake. I would tell you of the blazing Sun that hangs high above us like Some gigantic nugget of gold. It Shines its strong pure light on the Flowers and fields and makes Us all wealthy with the richness Of its radiance. I would tell you how the soft Tap-tap-tapping of the carpenter’s Hammer echoes from somewhere Down the lane. Its rhythm marks The time, yet chips away at the Hour that passes. I would tell you how the apple And pear hang heavy from the Bough, and through a daily Miracle grow richer in color and Plumper in size. They strain at Their limbs nearing ripeness, but Still are not ready to fall to The earth. I would tell you how the scents From the hollyhocks and impatiens Mingle in the air to subtly Weave a tapestry of sweet aromas. I would tell you how the trees Sing a song of summer’s passing In the quiet rustling of their Slowly turning leaves. Their Melody rises and falls with the Languid exhalations of the day’s Breathing. Yes, this August day is an unwritten Poem with invisible words fluttering About as softly and silently as the Monarch butterflies that pass overhead. In the net of my mind I will try To capture some of them and give to You this day. May it rest upon your Heart as delicately as the monarchs Alight on the waiting mums And share with you its sweet nectar.