To coming August

To coming August

When August comes you'll be shown how time's slowed:
It blunts the silent edge where you are still
As thoughtful owls or meditative toads:
Your contemplation won't deplete the will
To whip you in the trees by sun-laced pools
Where wood-shadows are warm; your pungent needs
Will add a franker fragrance to the brush
Where you surrender. Stop the tranquil tease
Of he who owns your summer, lest he crush
Green moss, lush grass and the unwary fern
That trespass on the path where he would tread
To tie you to grey boughs, where you will learn
It's to his verdant pleasures you are wed;
He'll blunt your silent edge with summer suns:
You will please in the heat when August comes.