August

We look with satisfaction once again,
at all that we have waited for and toiled,
rich golden hue, the ripening of grain,
a glimpse of crimson, vines on fences coiled.

What we anticipated in the spring,
leaves opening and blooming of the flowers,
turned, trailing grapevines climb and twine and cling,
grown richer with the shortening daytime hours.

More hours in the hammock we should lie,
for dreams are where reality is born,
eyes travel with the lazy dragonfly,
white tassels gently waving on the corn.

Green blanketing of duckweed coats the pond;
bullfrog and turtle watery trails reveal.
Deceived by seeming veil of reed and frond,
a hapless bluetail fly becomes a meal.

Oh, sunset, that its pledge to greet the day,
bold, red sky predicts tomorrow's delight.
Time, marches on, fulfillment on the way;
what' s done in daytime fills the dreams of night.