August fades on whispers low,  
Her golden breath begins to slow.  
The sunsets linger, soft and deep,  
As summer drifts toward twilight sleep.  

The fields, once bright with sunlit cheer,  
Now rustle whispers, *Autumn’s near.*  
Her crickets’ song begins to wane,  
A softer hum, a gentler refrain.  

The days grow shorter, shadows long,  
A fading hum of summer’s song.  
The warmth that clung to earth and air  
Gives way to winds that tousle hair.  

August, dear, you’ve held us close,  
With honeyed days, serene repose.  
But now your golden touch must yield  
To cooler nights and harvest fields.  

We bid you gently on your way,  
And thank you for each fleeting day.  
For in your light, we learned to see  
The beauty of life’s brevity.  

Farewell, sweet August, drift and glow,  
To where the summer spirits go.  
We’ll hold your warmth in memory’s hand,  
Until you greet us once again.