In the gentle breath of August’s embrace,
The sun dips low, a golden grace.
Fields of amber sway with time’s soft hand,
As summer bows to autumn’s grand.

Leaves begin to hint at hues untold,
A rustling tale of days grown old.
Cicadas sing their final song,
In twilight’s glow where nights grow long.

The sky, a canvas of fleeting dreams,
Paints whispers of the season’s schemes.
Night’s cool touch on sun-kissed skin,
Invites the fall to usher in.

Oh, August, with your bittersweet air,
A gentle pause in the year’s affair.
You hold the promise of change anew,
A bridge of warmth to skies of blue.