A green moon, said the June bees. And August
For a soul, agreed September. The obituary read,
It rained all day the first day of summer.

A moth is a solitary word and of the stars. Said July,
This ditty of a cosmos. The obituary read, 
On the longest day of the year we say goodbye. 

Under the long blue sky, we read out loud 
Our futures. And though I have already
Forgotten what was said, October remembers. 
And we hope for those who are gone this is true too.

One thought on “This Ditty”

1. they beat us up those months. i feel like a damn slab of clay at the mercy of all the ways you describe the months and has me eager for autumn and october remembering. i’m not a big fan of summer. i always feel like i should be doing more but i just don’t feel like doing anything. just dropping anchor but that might be old age, but i do walk more in winter i think? i should keep track off all that’s happening.

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   July 2, 2026 at 1:44 pm Reply