At August’s end we hold our breath
And wait for Summer’s certain death;
We spend our gardening time in dread
Composting favorite flower heads.
We dig and weed and mulch and till,
Hanging on to warm days still
Occurring, though they’re shortened soon
By early dusks and golden moon.
We walk our garden paths with sighs
That summer goes so quickly by;
Cupping one persistent bloom
That helps dispel this August gloom.
“Pshaw!” say I, don’t be so glum,
Look forward to the days to come!
Just think of all the kneeling, raking,
Bending, til your back is aching.
Of all the whirligigs and gnomes,
Gazing balls and Old Toad homes
That must be cleaned and put away,
Made ready for another day.
Of pools to empty, ponds to drain,
Gourds to pick before fall rains.
Hoes and spades and other tools
Must all be stored as weather cools.
But I, for one, embrace the days
Of clear, crisp air and morning haze,
Of walks though tunnels red and gold,
Of wisps of smoke as nights grow cold.
Of quilts and books beside the fire,
Pumpkin pies and apple cider.
And soon enough, a crystal frost
When heat of Summer’s truly lost.
Though I’ll be glad for cooler air,
I’ll bide my time til it is here;
We mustn’t wish away our days,
But fill them in delightful ways.
So, for today, my garden blooms!
Although it might be over soon,
These days of August still bring pleasure.
Embrace your fading garden treasures!
- (c) 2008 Nancy J. Bond