Member-only story
Free Verse
A Year in Poetry
a dance of words and life
Not a Medium subscriber? Read for here for free.
In January, the iced winds howl and whimper through the city
looking for last year’s regrets, finding new hopes,
discarding the merriness of Christmas
as February falls into place. The chill has taken
so many thoughts with it, that the buds all but
forget to make themselves known…
yet they find a way, leaving trails of flowers,
sharp green leaves, sun yellow bonnets
shaking heads and calling March to order.
The spring never marches in tidy lines…
It is exuberant and swaggering, reels drunk on its
own sap, calling for more wine, better songs, swaying…
ever ready for April’s frolicking and last orders
before the frost fairs-the-well to the bubbling ground,
May the light of the sun warm all from now on…
Knowing the steps to the dance is half the pleasure,
the rest is in the turn, the wind, the being of
choosing each direction… Blooming bright,
