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?