Why the first month?
Tell me, why?
Why a January sky?
What is in
the month that’s first?
It’s so cold; it’s the worst
for snow and ice.
The car won’t start.
Snowbirds fly and depart
from January.
And why not?
January’s best forgot.
Yet it’s your favourite
time of year.
Tell me, why? Make it clear.
January
is the best:
All of life is at rest
to awake
with the spring.
It’s the first month that will bring
all that sleeps
below the snow,
forsythia, the seeds to grow,
a suntan day
at the beach.
January sky, clear and bleached
is where we see
the light we lack
finally coming back.
January,
still with light;
January, glazed and white
always wakes me,
makes me sing,
a nested wren awaiting spring.
April 4, 2017
This is a poem I wrote the other day. It came about because I have another poem, titled First Month, that I was struggling with. So I thought I’d try writing that poem in another way altogether. I came up with the poem above, Why the First Month.