almanac

I started to make a list
of all the poems I’ve written
about you, but I quickly
lost count. they seem
as innumerable
as the stars in the sky,
multitudinous
as the diamond grains
of sand on a beach, countless
as the beats of my heart,
the tears from my eyes, and
the sighs of my breath.

sad ones, mad ones, ecstatic, longing,
resigned – I have as many
moods as the moon;
my feelings wax and wane
with the tides and are
twice as salty. these poems
are my farmer’s almanac,
my weather report. today
it’s balmy with a slight chance
of melancholy. a good day to
mulch sorrow, and weed out
old resentments. if you have
a kindness of rose bushes, plant them
at midnight, under the light
of the crescent moon.