August
By Rhiannonw
- 1907 reads
continuing the series on the months inspired by Eifion Wyn’s series in Welsh:
The flower harvest of the spring
is past, now combines reap, to bring
the gold seed in that’s multiplied,
and multitudes are well supplied.
The greenery’s tired, its springtime flush
has dulled, the lengthening surge and rush
of plants that shot up thin and tall
has slowed, they wither, soon to fall.
The birds’ songs hushed, nest duties ceased,
some moult, but all exploit the feast.
We soak the warmth of sunshine rays
between the showers: school holidays.
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Comments
Lovely rhymes, Rhiannon.
Lovely rhymes, Rhiannon. Beauty in the changing of the seasons, and those birds sure are making the most of the autumn fruit feast at the moment. All captured so well in this poem. I enjoyed all the colours,
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Seasonal confetti! Days of
Seasonal confetti! Days of wine and song now! Salute the past and serenade the present. You did it well!
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Hi Rhiannon
Hi Rhiannon
I thought the songbirds were much muted these early mornings. Is it a fact that they sing stronger in the spring than in the summer?
Lovely little poem.
Jean
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Hi Rhiannon,
Hi Rhiannon,
I really loved your poem and you were spot on with your descriptions, it reminded me everything in the garden has come to fruitation, or as you so rightly said is beginning to wilt.
Just love the changing seasons that we are lucky enough to have and Autumn is on the way, which is my favourite time of the year.
Thank you for sharing this beauty.
Jenny.
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