Joyce Johnson Poet Rhyme

June

The month of June has just arrived.
How many Junes to be?
A month received as precious gift
And guarded jealously.

Each day of June is a jewel 
In crown of speeding year.
We mourn its passing in advance
As each June grows more dear.

Paused between the spring and summer
As Heaven’s sweet preview.
The number of Junes allotted
In longest life too few.

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Zzzzz Zzzzz June 13, 2011 at 3:24 AM A beautifully poignant write, Joyce. As we get older, we begin to appreciate each coming season--indeed, each month--with a heightened sense of gratitude. Here's to many more Junes! Love and kind regards, Robert.

James Foulk June 11, 2011 at 9:37 PM really liked this one, an enjoyable read. thank you for commenting on Little blue Eyes.

Barbara Gorelick June 11, 2011 at 9:52 AM This one speaks to me and my aching bones...great one. BG

Carolyn Devonshire June 11, 2011 at 9:31 AM Deep, philosophical observation here, Joyce. We really don't know how many "Junes" we will see again. As we get older, each year is a smaller fraction of the life we've known and it seems to speed by us too quickly. Amazing insight in your poem. Love, Carolyn