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Writer's pictureTheresa Baxter

August



Wind in my hair, toes in the grass

Sun on my face as puffed clouds roll past

Perfect the day with little to do

But drink deep the summer’s golden brew

Dog days are over, but still we indulge

Who snuffs out the lantern? We will not divulge

I won’t give in gladly, I cling to the heat

You can’t call me home, I have friends yet to meet

I pluck out a stem and taste sweet the clover

Reminding myself that the season’s not over

As long as the wind is a comforting clip

The flute of mimosa is still there to sip

The quick falling night is bereft of a chill

The lingering warmth keeps us company still

I’ll deny end to summer and invite it to stay

Offer it succor for as long as it lay

Oh August I thank you for giving your all

Delivering fervor with brashness and gall

You exit not lightly, your namesake you earn

Come winter we eagerly await your return!

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