August turns a corner.
Nights pull up the covers a little sooner
Crawling into moonlit slumber
Sprinkling heavy dew across the land
kissing all her creature's cheeks goodnight.
August remembers childhood trees
that held secrets on the edge of the playground.
Cool early mornings collect hopes and old dreams
in her humid body
and sweats them onto blades of grasses.
Full ripe fruits fall from limbs uneaten by birds
but devoured by soil.
Under the canopy of August
A circus of greens and pollen
Reckless perfection spilling down the hills
Anointing the rocks
Mating with potential.