…

so january – oh, can you see
your phantom limbs, a fantasy?

dear february & feathered friends
the present’s span – it never ends

um, muddled march – just starch my shirt
a brighter white – not shades of dirt

yet april’s ape’s a jape, a shape
a floating cloak ( perhaps a cape? )

give may a spin – then let’s begin
with buttercups, a yellow chin

though broken june – will never tune
the moon’s kazoo – or his bassoon

so sing july, when thicket throbs
with cricket legs ( instead of gobs )

as august dusts – my dresser shelf
the rest is just ~ a woodland elf

would september – remember us
the scattered ash, an omnibus

of october – the ghostly year
& slowly so we … disappear

yes, november – is peppermints
then spot the cat, the leopard sprints

we’re december, the ember’s spark
we reignite ( each morning lark )

…