This isn’t quite as somber as the past few — sorry, it kind of slipped out. I don’t know if it’s my best, but I think it’s my favorite so far. I don’t have kids, but if I ever do I’ll make sure they know this. And wear hats and gloves in the winter.
Protests, Paper Hearts and Fireflies
Playing on a snowy evening with stars in your hair
And a half-moon strung from the tip of your nose
Ever in motion, a grace for all seasons
In January a radical, protesting hats and scarves and demanding the fall of snow
Giving your hearts in February, a ritual you perform with more earnestness than understanding
Embattled like a general in March, making the most of melting resources
Smiling when I tell you the April songbirds returned just to laugh at your jokes
A May basket-case, so full of summery anticipation you can’t decide what to do first
A June jitterbug, so full of summery freedom you can’t decide what to do next
Benevolent in July, pardoning her fireflies after they’re tried
In August seeking cool refuge in pools, and books, and other floating worlds
Mourning the end of the world each September, and
Peering over a pencil eraser in the aftermath, at summer’s October tears on the window
Peeling November’s noreast leaves from your bright face
And gorging on December, that double cheeseburger, that ice cream sundae of a month
That finales in fireworks(!), then dissolves once more to protests, paper hearts and fireflies.
How many more cycles? No one can tell, nor what they’ll bring
I’ve had thirty-one more than you, and this is my wisdom, the sum:
You are always in motion, but in all seasons grace
Bundle up in the cold ones, jump in puddles in the wet ones
And remember the singing birds laugh just for you.
©2013 Jason Anderson