August

Alone in the deep August
must have to find the spirit
secluding from the narrow pathways
to a tiny heart as a guest
just below where the sky
turns saffron in the evening
a song perched too or a flight
on the winds not knowing why
a stout tree with branches
no longer than the span of an overlooking
its leaves a little fuchsia, a little tangerine
almost dropping for the chances
when must an eager climb
learn the soft spots and hard cores
like a leaf to waft away
and the passing wind chime
we move as the gentle waves
return to oneself
counting the figures on the lines
on our hands.