how I see chicks

(formerly titled "on women")

Prologue:
a galvanized bucket hangs
from a maple tree planted
when Frost chose his path

the sap flows as sweetly
as her love.

January
she rages
in her halo
where the snow blinds

the musk of her heat
is embraced in denim
tight against her womb

as snow flakes congregate
by booted feet
below calves muscled by stilettos

February
in her is the power to declare
what the groundhog only dreams

Summer sooner or winter wandering
longer until all our hearts break.


March
the frozen rain lands loudly
on top her head
and circles her thoughts like a tiara

the cold bites
but her teeth are sharper
and winter flees

she is mother wolf
in a turquoise winter jacket
her babes suckling her dreams.


April
her tulips part
gold in the first long days

a kiss of spring
with the summer's tongue still hidden

May
in blue skies
where clouds fear to tread
she is the queen watching north

the buds of mighty oak
her scepter in her left hand
unfurl like a hymn to her beauty

Luna rising
to her right
her silvery shield

Sol, the war fire
upon her parapet,
blazing warning of her rage

June
a green caterpillar
eats beech leaves

like her
preparing for greatness.

July
though fireflies
dance
in lush meadows

darkness is truth

until the sunrise
when she
is most holy

August
the scent of blueberries
and sagitarrius' arrows

piercing evening winds
and afternoon thunder


September
every year
she bleeds
gold, orange, red.

the blaring horn of triumph
and release

fertility fades
in arias
as the sun sets.

October
restless spirits call midnight home
and dance in orange gourds

she wears black
and sweeps away hope.

November
the smells of a feast
of eggs, and fish
nuts and carrots
fowl and fruit
fill her kitchen

where she is
grateful heads bow

the sounds of laughter
ache the blues
in heavy bass
when her angels
bless, heart
hearth, soul
and tear

where she is
grateful heads bow


December
pine in the parlor
hangs with glass balls

the sweetest memories
thunder in joy as she passes.


Epilogue:
the first snows are brushed aside
to place the maple casket
six feet below
the roses
and the apple tree.