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- HEAT urges secret odors from the grass.
- Blunting the edge of silence, crickets shrill.
- Wings veer: inane needles of light, and pass.
- Laced pools: the warm wood-shadows ebb and fill.
- The wind is casual, loitering to crush
- The sun upon his palate, and to draw
- Pungence from pine, frank fragrances from brush,
- Sucked up through thin grey boughs as through a straw.
- Moss-green, fern-green and leaf and meadow-green
- Are broken by the bare, bone-colored roads,
- Less moved by stirring air than by unseen
- Soft-footed ants and meditative toads.
- Summer is passing, taking what she brings:
- Green scents and sounds, and quick ephemeral wings.
- Babette Deutsch
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In August