January
the sky was clear
the snow was crisp
I aired my concern to the trees floating by
while my heart stood still
Nothing made sense.
She thought about foreground and background;
past time and future
one hand clenched
a fist full of flowers
camouflage stitching
wrapped tightly around her heart
her eyes swam
at the swans bathing
and her vision blurred
at the heron hanging
February
I gleamed a little
Around the edges
With hope
On a hopeful day
In the dead of winter
March
I am waiting
for the backyard hum
The warming of the green,
the buzzing and birdsongs
April
There was a line of birds
on a wire above Lane Street
where I walked, chattering.
a discussion of the weather
and it seems
there was no cause for concern
on this sunny morning.
May
she was a silhouette
against the sun
I saw a little flock of thoughts
alight on her hair
A halo of twists and curls
A tapestry of cloudy threads
and sunshine
June
A woman walking, beckoning
A woman in heat, nesting
In the shadow of a fruit tree
July
I touched my toe to the water
And watched myself
in concentric circles
diffuse
August
The blue night sky
was lit like a painting by Van Gogh
with shooting stars, fireflies
And the glow of our campfire
red
September
I smelled the autumn smell
briefly
when a cloud traveled across the sun
and it caused
a spring in my step
October
“thought-jotting
and the deliberate setting down of colour”
November
I have become like a bird
alone on a roof.
December
I heard the Sun come up
in the morning
Striking the icicles
which burst into chorus
“Fa la la la la, la la la la”