Awaiting The End Of August Poem by Paul Hartal

The squirrels run and jump on trees;
Life rolls on towards September,
A lonely sparrow startled flees
Off it flies, a vacationer.

As summer wind veers to the north,
Lacy moods alter, but steadfast
His mind meanders around and forth
Awaiting the end of August.

A rose, she steps out from real dream,
A sunlit swan, pearl of desire,
Tangible longing in glowing gleam,
His throbbing heart plays a fiery lyre.