August
The light is changing. I see it in the Early morning sun Its warm glow Softer now, than before. The light is changing. I see it in the Crispy-edged leaves Of horse chestnut trees Losing their summer lustre. The light is changing. I see it in the Nights drawing in The promise of Darker times to come. The light is changing.
A beautiful, sensitive poem that captures the essence of the invisible, slow change.
"August" is engagingly simple, Trudi, and quite beautiful. The repetition of "The light is changing" works really well throughout.