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.

. . .

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