February and June
have to give way
to the latter part of the year,
and as I draw near to you
I know that December shall
be waiting expectantly for us
in the shadow of early November.
We are in season
from month to month,
in harmony with love
that floats in the daytime
and lingers to the moment
when it is no longer
worthwhile to say “goodbye,”
or hurry another cycle of years.
Distant in your own world
or one with me in the ourskirts
of another restless month,
you may draw nearer now,
closer than you had ever moved
towards your self.
