the March lion roars
storms turn to gentle showers
lion becomes lamb

gently curled petal
a droplet of dew slides down
Mother Nature's bath

February morn
the groundhog sees his shadow
more winter to come

flipping over rocks
happily swimming around
my little goldfish

January first
sun peeks over snow-capped trees
dawn of a new year

blistering days drag
on forever, still I'm found
clinging to August

it's just when I thought
all hope was lost, did my past
and future arrive