Immaculate white
As far as the eye can see:
January snow.
In February,
Watching the flakes flit outside,
I yearn for my home.
Outside my building,
The March sun is beginning
To draw out grass blades.
Misting over grass
And grey, slanted shingle roofs:
Gentle April rain.
I hear birds singing
And see tree leaves returning:
May has brought Spring back.
I know June has come
When the heat starts to hover
Low above the ground.
Evening in July,
I breathe in the humid air
And watch the fireflies.
The trees in the yard
Burn in brilliant oranges:
Sunset in August.
September sunrise:
I feel that chill blowing in
From the north again.
As October dawns,
I hear the children's laughter
Piercing the morning.
The first flakes of snow
Stick to the soil all around:
November has come.
Last December night,
The year ends in the next room.
We will start again.