As the Year Matures
July brings the perfect rose.
In August we take off our clothes.
September we must don our hose,
And summer goes, and summer goes.
October the cool breezes blow.
November brings a hint of snow.
December time is all aglow,
Bright gifts with bow, bright gifts with bow.
In January a deep freeze.
Small February is a tease.
Bold March once more will try to please.
Time to plant peas, time to plant peas.
Early spring is dark and drear.
in April rain clouds still appear.
By May the weatherman we cheer,
And June is here, and June is here.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2017