The August Chill

The giant trees stand one hundred foot.
Cool, August chill bathes me---
The first August chill in years---
The swelling feeling of Late Summer
The sleepy time, of the swing of things;
The light pours from the West
In blaring rays, in the cool day,
Illuminating the hundred foot trees,
Seventy-two degrees.
A theme occupies my mind
As I walk down my path,
And talk to the LORD Who always listens.
A theme of  memories and the disciples,
How they could remember Christ's words
The same way I do; or I remember
A story such as Little Red Riding Hood
Or Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
Stories foundational to me,
Paul Bunyan, or I remember
Augusts long ago were cool
When for many years they were sweltering;
Why? Because it meant my Summer was come to an end;
And that, like Jesus, is important to me.