IN AUGUSTBy Babette DeutschHEAT 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 crushThe sun upon his palate, and to drawPungence from pine, frank fragrances from brush,Sucked up through thin grey boughs as through a straw.

Moss-green, fern-green and leaf and meadow-greenAre broken by the bare, bone-colored roads,Less moved by stirring air than by unseenSoft-footed ants and meditative toads.

Summer is passing, taking what she brings:Green scents and sounds, and quick ephemeral wings.

【英文诗歌300首 IN AUGUST查看网站：[db:时间]】