August, and School Beckons

The milkweed are bursting
They float on the air.
Invisible hands will
Examine them there.


The goldfinches dipping,
With water-pipe cries,
Engage in this banquet
That lazily flies.


The crickets in chorus,
To warm grass resort,
Lamentable chirpings
Of play-time cut short.


The goldenrod brilliant
Like carpets on fire
Supporting the Monarchs
Whenever they tire.


The shade seems more welcome
In summer’s late heat
As geese in formation
Pump practice retreat.


And children just wonder
As strange clouds pass by,
Like marshmallow traffic
Traversing the sky.



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