twelve months to the year
each month its own little quirks,
each month its flavour.
over my shoulder
I look, as well as ahead,
at January's start.
rituals of love -
new, old, hopeful, unreturned,
mark each Febru’ry.
the first flower blooms
of pink and yellow and blue
start the March of Spring.
they say it will rain
in April, little showers.
oft it is sunny.
no violent winds now,
but stormy for exam kids
in the month of May. (and June).
starting to seek to
be curled up and napping like
sand between my toes,
ankle deep in cooling surf -
July beach visit.
ice creams near daily
on my holiday abroad
in the August heat.
don’t have to let go
of longer evenings in a
balmy September.
autumn, halloween -
the colours of their template
start in October.
the bonfire smells
don’t last long enough for me.
early November.
the festivities
I have lived through the year for,
throughout December.
twelve months to the year
we circle through them and then
we circle again.
No comments:
Post a Comment