be gone August you dusty fool
it's past your time and past your prime
tired of dusty trees, and sultry air
only the sweet beech knows its hour
all other trees green still
a foolish show too proud to know
that death rises now in their sap
give way, give way to glorious days
of golden arches and fallen leaves
sweet downpours wet the still green grass
and darkened mornings let us pass
in anonymity and disguise.
for surely only a hidden life is truly wise
copyright 2025 l. ivison
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