January cold taxes the purse.
February remembers love for a time
While winter deals its worst.
March gives us reason
For changing the season
As wind blows through like a curse.
April pulls green from the earth.
May bursts blossom from bud
And goes on in the cycle of birth.
June makes it stronger.
As the days, growing longer,
Recover abundance from dearth.
July fills the evenings with light.
August brings heat and the sun
Shines so intensely and bright
Until September mellows
Its reds, browns and yellows
And the migrating swallows take flight.
October garners the grain.
November strips leaves from the trees
And brings back the cold and the rain.
December, December,
Is the time we remember
The old year, in darkness again.
© BH, 2019
It was another feverish night. Half asleep in the wee hours I made this instead of counting sheep. Waking, I only tinkered with it. It’s just another list poem, perhaps a little naive, even. But hey-ho, invention is the fruit of whatever. Or some such.
BTW you can pronounce the title something like “Jayeff-mamjay-jasond”
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