Michael Edwards

THE MONTHS

 

 

THE MONTHS

 

 

JANUARY

As  stones that lie in frozen pools

when days still short and ice accrues

and all that lies within is bathed

 beneath a blankets cold caress.

 

FEBRUARY

Winters skeletal bones stand proud

In dormancy in frost and snow

Within the dark and dank and drear

Their buds asleep till springtime brings

The new beginnings of the year.

 

MARCH

M arch when birds sing

A nd small early flowers

R each out between showers

C ascading, celebrating and

H eralding spring.

 

APRIL

The ravages of seasons rage

no more in minds of toiling men

with welcome signs of change in clime

their heavy raiment  hanging upon

the rusting hooks behind the door

now April’s here again.

 

MAY

Dressed in hues of freshest green

the  fields and hedges,  trees and moors

 with misting sprays in harmony

reflecting seasons early cast.

 

JUNE

The sap of spring departing fast,

the rising scent of new mown hay

whitening, drying  day by day,

in early pastures kissed by sun.

 

JULY

With summer days of gold and blue

when fields of stubble frame the view

and natures music gently plays

with gold and blue of summer days.

 

 AUGUST

With mighty arms which swing the scythes

the swish as reapers cut the corn

in fields where poppies shed their seeds

and rooks await the ploughs return.

 

SEPTEMBER

Behind the churning tractors wheels

on soil ploughed as  birds sweep low

the ridges point where sky mists rise

and coral beaded berries hang

as peace runs through the vales.

 

OCTOBER

The coruscating light shines through
the canopy of falling leaves
and rests upon the forest floor
where crenelated shadows dance.

 

NOVEMBER

In rows of narrow window panes

The slowly sinking lingering sun

Reflects its fiery orange hand

As autumns fingers lightly lay

A burnished palette on the land.

 

DECEMBER

On lonely paths that weave their way

Where steps are heard with rustling tread

and muffled hands remain unseen

In depths of winters frozen grasp.