I’ve been away for a little while and haven’t had a chance to put up the final Twelve Months poem. Although I have a busy day on my doorstep, I will still take the time to post the final poem..In fact, I’m going to post all the poem segments together so that way you can read them in 1 fluid post. So here we go! You ready?
We ring you in with scintillating hope,
But cold winds slow any momentum we gain,
Chilled to the bone under Death’s hand and pain.
Who can ascend your snowy slope?
Our human lights fail to shine e’en a little
In your dark valley of tundra and ice.
Feeble our movements, great is your vice!
Our steps grow slow, our joints turn brittle.
Should 12 months pass in such darkness and gloom?
February–like a fairy!
You flit in with promise of warmer love.
The paradox lies in the cold that still tarries,
How unforunate the hearts your avalanche buries.
Yet cannot hope still fly from above?
And Love is the thing–the Person, the Promise!–
That lets us raise our heads to the chilling wind.
Though bleak is the hour, though sharp is the bend,
A sunrise will eventually break this darkness.
And a hope for 12 months begins to bloom…
March-I am parched;
For a water that cools and doesn’t numb,
For air that refreshes and doesn’t chill,
For sunbeams that don’t make the heart dumb,
For green grass growing upon the hill.
I remember a time when you made me glad,
Childhood mirth lost in enraptured joy.
Your bow was majestic and never sad,
As you always gave me some pretty new toy.
I thought the 12 months culminated in you…
April–come she will,
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain,
When the last bit of cold falls away to the North,
When flowers bloom after Winter’s pain,
When the command to replenish, from Heaven, goes forth.
And how, amongst all your dazzling colors,
The one that stands out is bloody red?
And though He died, yet like the flowers,
He burst from the ground and arose from the dead.
The 12 months finds Spring and life born anew…
May-she will stay;
Resting in my arms again
Like a lover and a friend.
Stay, and rest easy, my dear,
For I know you bring me cheer.
The warmth of summer starts to gleam
Upon my brow as I near high noon.
I hope for happier days in my dream;
Oh that couldn’t come too soon!
Across the beach, through the sand,
I grab a-hold of your hand.
Long may this hour of bliss be;
Oh! How it refreshes me!
Twelve months are redeemed at summer’s rise.
June-she’ll change her tune.
In restless walks she’ll prowl the night;
As stars look on in somber light,
As the moon sits high in our dome,
As meteors fly to find home.
Then day breaks with a crushing heat,
The beach looks inviting, yet I hold back.
For everyday is on repeat,
As the hot sun again comes to attack.
But in evening I will find rest!
Whether winds come from east or west.
On a porch I’ll watch the sun set,
And not forget God’s grace quite yet.
In the middle of 12 months I’ll close my eyes.
July-she will fly,
And give no warning to her flight.
She comes and leaves like a soft sprite,
Yet in her wake fire comes alive;
It fills the skies and downward dives.
Hastily everyone runs to vacation,
Before the window of rest closes for good.
All seek out a secret location
To relax as they feel they should.
But as the last seconds pass on,
Before the summer is all gone,
The tired feeling comes to bear
As the month recedes without care.
Can the 12 months be revived once more?
August-die she must.
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold,
After the breath of heat grows too old.
On the inside we silently cry,
Fearing that brighter days have gone by.
The dog days begin as the sun starts setting;
Children loathe when school must restart.
They go about ceaselessly fretting;
Academia weighs heavy on the heart.
How soon we forget God’s great mercy,
When we feel good days will never be!
Though, once again, the hour grows dark,
By grace we find warmth with a mere spark.
While the 12 months begin to shut their door.
A love once new has now grown old.
How quickly it flew from my hand!
But is it not as the sages foretold?
Could we have hoped for a firmer stand?
Beauty is fleeting, and so is the year;
Already brown and red appears on the trees.
I see the end approaching, coming so near.
My infatuation subsides and carelessness flees,
As the 12 months cracks into pieces…
October- be sober!
You’re too carried away in autumnal mirth!
Scaring children with delightful glee,
And plucking pumpkins from the earth.
I admit, it’s having an affect on me!
Your leaf-covered roads and gray cloudy skies
Bring alive my senses and quicken my heart.
So in Death God brings Life without compromise;
Another fine showing of His wonderful art.
Near the 12 months’ end, a second wind releases…
As cold winds sweep across the lands,
Still you call us to your table to feast
And order thanksgiving from greatest to least,
As we bow our heads and fold our hands.
What paradox! While surrounded by barren trees,
Still we turn our eyes upward to offer God thanks!
The warmth of the season, how highly it ranks;
Though all around a cold wasteland one sees.
Though the 12 months turn bleak, we find a wise friend…
As the year comes close to being expired,
Up you spring with one last joyful leap,
To give us a gift we wish to always keep;
Your true warmth better than counterfeits we hired.
Another paradox! In the midst of such bitter cold,
We celebrate the birth of a great, warming Light.
In the midst of our sadness, sorrow, and night,
We’re enlightened by fulfillments of prophecies old.
But the year now coughs and breathes its last;
How slowly and swiftly this moment came!
If you must leave, leave with a good name,
And give us hope as the years’ torches are passed.
And so the 12 Months now come to their end.
Woo! So…what do you think?