Golden August Morning

Dew still clings to blades of green,

Cold air whispers what it’s seen—

Summer’s footsteps fading slow,

Golden light begins to glow.

Birdsong thinner than before,

Wings have flown to warmer shores.

Yet my heart stays soft and still,

I stand quiet on this hill.

Oh, this gentle turning tide,

Nothing asks me to decide

Just a breath of amber air,

Peace I never knew was there.

Let the summer drift away;

I will keep this quiet day.

Wet grass brushing on my shoes,

Morning holds no need to choose,

Just to breathe and just to be,

Autumn calling softly to me.

A little ache beneath the gold,

For seasons pass, and stories fold

But I am here, and I am home,

No longer restless, no longer alone.

Oh, this gentle turning tide,

Nothing asks me to decide

Just a breath of amber air,

Peace I never knew was there.

Let the summer drift away;

I will keep this quiet day.

Morning at the edge of summer

One quiet day I’ll keep with me.