Naught-less

The year leapt,
after a mad fatuous February,
we marveled with breath
caught,
held hostage
by superstitious calendaric math,
pawns of emperors and popes,
when we had been democratized and spare all January.
Imbolc stirs more than sap,
and uncounted days, winked over,
make permissible what is not strictly bound.
Janus was harsh and abundant
with me in turn, this season.
Whether the leap will rise or fall is remaindered
in months not yet mine.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s