Poems (Tynan)/August Weather
AUGUST WEATHER
Dead heat and windless air, And silence over all; Never a leaf astir, But the ripe apples fall; Plums are purple-red, Pears amber and brown; Thud! in the garden-bed Ripe apples fall down.
Air like a cider-press With the bruised apples' scent; Low whistles express Some sleepy bird's content; Still world and windless sky, A mist of heat o'er all; Peace like a lullaby, And the ripe apples fall.