Sophie Jones

Northampton, Massachusetts, USA

March, it is a final kiss,

a one-embrace goodbye, 

April finds dry dessert,

sun much too hot to cry. 

May it comes so quickly, 

it’s end a lonely sigh, 

June welcomes me 

with greenery 

against the smiling sky.

July ale sloshes from a cup,

I recognize the trace,

August sweat and cigarettes

from that circle-tabled place. 

September is the little dog

With ears of velvet lace,

October falls

As creatures crawl 

leaves die anew with grace.

November cries for summer doves,

I fear they’ve long since flown,

December hungers for a flame, 

Sets it deep within my bones. 

January strums and sings

with a love I’ve never known,

February weeps

as sunlight creeps

and melts away the snow.

And once again the month of March

Assumes its wild procession, 

for this past year 

I’ll shed a tear

when the world begins to freshen.