Twelve cards like
a clock on the wall.
Each card a number;
Each card a month.
January:
Snow stars on a sapphire field;
February:
Sun-sheened boats on gentle waters.
March,
the Birth of Meteorological
Spring;
A Heart-shaped Cloud on an
aerial canvas.
April,
a boat as elegant as
a Swan;
At one with Sky;
In-tune with Sea.
May;
Sea and Sky once more:
With a view of the realm
between sand bed and
surface;
Where yellow-tailed and
jet-striped fish;
Swim in the midst of a
nautical dance.
June,
the start of
Glorious Summer,
Graced with pattern-stalked and
rainbow-capped mushrooms;
Their stalks mirrors of the pillars,
No, tree trunks;
That reach toward a cloud-wisped sky.
July,
as scarlet as Sister June
is azure;
A falcon-holding lady flanked by a lion
and a unicorn.
August,
the End,
and also the
Beginning.
A cream-wisp beach,
A matching boat;
A hammock from which a soul
rests in near-paradise.
A tortoise soars into the
firmament of September,
To catch a disc with the
luminosity of the sun:
Whilst the azure sky
of October,
Is graced by a pair of doves
with the plumage of snow.
May is the name for the
green field of November;
Over which lies a sun with
rays of magenta and a centre
of amethyst.
Yet the ultramarine sky
returns for December;
As deep as the châteauwalls are pale.
With weathercocks that
glisten like avians of gold;
Above a vista of emerald,
violet grapes and a not-so-winter harvest.
Yet December is not the end,
nor the last card:
For in the centre of the twelve
lies one named
Thirteen;
The scene of which is a
mirror of the cards that
encircle the centre:
Three Kings,
Mother and Father,
Angels, Servants and
a Radiant Child.
Twelve Cards,
Twelve Months,
And a Thirteenth in
the centre.