August

You serve exquisite, pleasant views
  On luscious summer days of bliss.
I see cerulean and chartreuse
  Wherever you have sown a kiss
To chase away my days of blues.

I have been moved to pen your days
  Of sultry heat and starry nights.
But though a tome of words I graze,
  Not one of them can reach your heights
To climb the chaise and light your fraise.

What words can I recite to you?
  As you, O August, are ablaze
Because the sun has loved you too.
  And so I hold no sway or ways
For words through poesy to coo.

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chaise = a horse-drawn carriage
fraise = a decorative ruff worn at the neck, especially in the Elizabethan era.