JANUARY.
I sit and stir the fire,
cold the day
cold this drifted snow
dim the day
and the cold dark night.

Ah me,
Good-morrow sister,
lift up your heart to me.

FEBRUARY.
Brother, no joy this day!
I've only brought some snowdrops,
just a few,
Nay a cheerful or hopeful song
in the frosty dew
we pray for the pale sun's sake.

MARCH.
Come, let me show you what I bring.
For you have fullfilled your day
and must away!

I wrestle and frown
to topple down
wrench, rend, and uproot!

On my course,
seasons hold breath
of time and death.

APRIL.
Sparrows have done with play
and must work today.

Nevermind the showers,
chirp about the flowers coming forth
in hope and sweetness.

MAY.
That's just your way, April,
smile and sigh..
Half in fun, is your sorrow..

I am fed by your showers,
but still all that blows today
the sun is waxing strong..
and days are waxing long..

JUNE.
Sweet May,
reach the nearest star that hangs afloat..

MAY.
Surely, you've come too early sister June.

JUNE.
If you feel I have come to soon,
to round your young May moon..
Set the world gasping at my noon.

Yet come, I must.

Here are full-blown roses by the score,
more roses, and yet more.

You need but sit beneath a leafy tree
and watch and sing.

JULY.
With june, we cheer up sweet sister May,
violent renews lost perfume
orchid revives lost blooms..

Blossoms for brides and maidens head
Nay, dearer are those
planted around her blessed head.

AUGUST.
Alleluia! Alas, my heart is crying
so sister June's is sighing
and always replying with content undying.

Heartsease I found,
where love lies bleeding
scattered on the ground.
Whatever blossoms i missed unheeded
heartsease i found in June.

SEPTEMBER.
Ah, me.
Let rest, this day
and bring June forth again
to glow my green leaves that die.

The violet is born where she sets
her flying foot.

June gathers my garden mound
stood sore in need of watering,
weeding,
and binds the growth unbound..

OCTOBER.
Nay,
Sister June
sleeps on her stalk
in a bud's fold
to rest her inner sun
that floods the world with gold.

Each hill waiting to be tipped in sunshine..

let us keep tryst in heaven,
wait til sweet June awakens..
her whose heart is tender.

NOVEMBER.
She keeps my heart and it's key,
my love whos heart is tender.

Opens her bosom to us all
the least and last of things
that soar on quivering wings.

My short days end,
bring forth sweet June
with lengthening days begin,
She, who knows us gem for gem.

DECEMBER.
June and beautiful...
framed of air.
At and between sunrise and sunset
she grows most fair.
Carry me a little way,
to hearken my sighs..

I arise and run
with her giving me breath.

Half strength and half grace...
Ah me,
She is the
moonrise after rain.



.. . ... . ..

Thank you, June.

Love,
Your KissyFace.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others