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On this late August morning, I inhale
A breeze that is anticipating fall
And half myself knows summer must prevail
The other half responds to autumn’s call
These August days do split the self in two
Mind, nature, body all point to two roads
One road invites me to begin anew
The other one is bent toward present modes
How does one simultaneously walk
So presently attuned and yet ahead?
Where future and the present interlock;
That’s where late August makes its bed
Perhaps I should be swift and heed the call
Since summer’s charms are fading after all