On August side

On August side, 
industry to think carefully. 
Nature is dying, 
for the winter. 
The harvest ripens, 
begins the harvest. 
Wind Vane wild 
still bobs. 
I am a mature grain, 
hum now only 
shut up. 
correct me 
recovered from. 

A warm while still be you. 
Languor comes under the breast, 
melancholy wants out of the world. 
I am a mature, good enough, 
a feeling deep inside of me. 
Thoughts on the altar, 
victim of poems for the book. 
Now is the moment 
to be quiet, 
to think sun 
purple evening the setting. 

Yet I live, yet flows 
wild blood in my veins, 
hot passion. 
Anna might be in Power 
export. 
I do not know. 
When is unnecessary for a 
blowing in the wind, 
towards the glowing embers.