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