Measured Calendar

The seasons form a roundel, melodies

Repeated, following on top of each,

The spring above the notes of autumn breeze

And frost, of contrapuntal angel speech.

The winter echoes summer’s heat with cold,

A mathematics balance making chords

Where notes in order float above and mold

Together not at all like fencing swords.

The zones inside the seasons’ heights, though,

Named, bring on some undertones and overtones

As subtle as the breath of saints all shot

Right through like spirit arias or moans.

  When April sings September’s phrase and bars,

    Then August calls from depths December’s haars.

|~ Phillip Whidden