Augusts turn
I saw you
tip toe through the change
Unflatteringly and seamlessly
You turned from Summer to August
The forebode was bothered
I was sleeveless until you found me
That Tempest wind
with its own perilous sermonizing
The dull fruits were harbingers
from another's basket
Clumps of tenderized grass
ebbing in its lost impress
You scoffed at me
whilst I unwelcomed you
Ill affording me
in the ruffled cross hairs
of spite
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2024
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