Wild flowers

Come August, the fields are 
Studded purple, it's all I can
Remember now. I misplaced
The smells long ago, maybe
Better rather than worse, the
Colors, vibrant and delicate, 
Strong but sensitive, purple
Everywhere. Every August, I
Remember, wild flowers as
Far as the eye can see, like
A blanket, gently purple in
A breeze, air humming with
Heat, purple, quietly radiant