Sneak Peeks

Friday, August 24, 2018

The Twelve I Know

January draws in cold fingers, toes curl in boots that crunch through ice crusted puddles. The year's account is full again, flush with time. Couch cushions are scattered with seed catalogs and gym contracts and dreams of a better future. This is the year!

February is melting sweet. A blushing coquette with hearts in her eyes. The youngest sister out of twelve. Scented with roses and chocolate and speaking in poems, love, LOVE, spring will be here soon.

March is green upon green with clover and moss and bursting leaves everywhere! The spring of deception has come, whispering stories of growing things and slumbering gardens that need tending. The skies tumble grey and blue and the nights bite young leaves with crystalline teeth.

April showers wash the wind clean and draw pink tulips and yellow daffodils from dense black loam. Pastel blossoms line sidewalks and store aisles in fragrant displays. Life reborn! Baby chicks and baby bunnies and eggs to treasure in woven baskets. Tuck seeds into the earth with hopes to see them again soon.

May is filled with celebrations! Ribbons weave and dance through the air, flowers crown laughing heads and fill baskets, vases, and mothers' arms. Fiesta! Picnic blankets form a patchwork quilt of color in the parks. Time for Renewal and Remembrance.

June sweeps in wreathed in lace. Clouds of white clover blossoms fill the emerald fields, fallen from the cerulean sky. White lace flowers and white lace dresses. Roses scent warming breezes and the hands of blushing brides. The promise month ends the beginning of the year and begins the hope of forever.

July is the scent of BBQ smoke in the afternoon. Sunsets long after bedtime. It is sulfur from sparkling fireworks, popping and whistling down the street. It is a chlorine breeze blowing off the public pool. Cicada songs. Bleached blue skies. Coconut oil on golden skin. A cool drink of water straight from the hose.

August sighs dryly in late summer winds. Creosote hangs heavy as thunderstorms roll along the horizon. Bats and vultures cartwheel through the sky. Camping trips and shopping trips, one last hurrah before school. The countdown to fall begins.

September is gold edged leaves and gold edged grass and gold edged twilight. Cool evenings and clear days. The crinkle of brown paper lunch bags, the scent of pencil shavings and new shoes. Apples and squash and spice.

October is open windows. Curtains billowing in a cool breeze. Pumpkins and cinnamon and chocolate. Transformation. The crunch of brown leaves. Haunted houses. Hands slimy with jack-o-lantern guts. Magic rising.

November is apple pie and pumpkin pie and roasting things and real mashed potatoes. Sweaters! Furniture polish and family gatherings. Melancholy promises to be closer next year. Secret shopping trips, and dreams of joyful eyes filled with wonder.

December appears with twinkling lights and peppermint kisses. Red and green and blue and silver. Tinsel spangled rooms filled with hope and nostalgia. Merry songs jingle jangle through glowing golden windows and off the lips of wide eyed children in puffs of cloudy breath. The passing year is launched into the infinite on the backs of rockets. Time to begin again.


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