A Sonnet to August
I will miss you so, dear August of mine!
When September winds blow and the days shift
Into evening silhouettes of birds,
Listlessly observing from trees that lift
Long limbs, where acorns drop for squirrels to dine.
Many smiles, passionate touches, we share.
In summer script, your diary’s warm words
Shall haunt me into winter. May your gift
Survive when I am lonely. When I pine
Your absent lips, your fragrant rose-strewn hair
Or hold your sweet sachet of jasmine vine
Under my pillow as I’m set adrift.
Sweet August, will you tell me you’ll be true?
Or will the Fall leaf’s shiver, silence you?
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