A Poem For August
The morning grass is covered with dew…for a split second..the bugs that bite have slept the night..and now its time to play
The kids are tackling each other…the pigskin lies in fresh cut grass…fresh cut mosquito bites line their legs..the longest part of the day
The water drips from hose to mouth to dirt..the mud is gone before the game is won…the ground can’t quench its thirst.
By Ryan Mega