Daily poem: August stanza 20

Most of the orioles have migrated. Just a few left, only singing early in the morning.

 

 

Fly south though the sun shines, wise oriole,

and the August heat is fierce,

for the nights will cool,

the wind will change,

and storms buffet the distant sea.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “Daily poem: August stanza 20”

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