August crawls towards September
summer days are almost over
gone the chance to dance in clover
barefoot with the one you love
soon we’ll gather by the handful
ochre leaves in autumn free fall
watch them tumble to the paving
not for saving we will burn them
warm our hands when cold winds blow
then the snow will freeze our fingers
and the frost will choose to linger
late into the morning hours
bleak our garden with no flowers
in the midst of winter pall