August softly comes, all clad in grey
A hue of calm, though, rather than of gloom.
An atmosphere of slow; a sleepy day
This seems to be. The rain clouds loom
But do not yet with water douse the ground.
Between these clouds does sunlight show its face
It dimly lights the trees with flowers crowned
And their leaves about; a veil of lace.
Inside, then re emerging, there is now
The fragrance of renewal; the refrain,
Rhythmic beats from every branch and bough –
Water drops, the sound of recent rain.
Each detail so ordained by one above
Who breathed to make, and now sustains in love.