For the day that only comes ‘round once every four years, we have a haunting poem about missed connections–and from a poet with a “Leap Day” birthday, no less.
I took your complaint about the lack of Leap Day poems as a challenge. Still very rough, but I have four years to polish it.
Leap Year
The calendar holds out its little cup
to catch the dripping seconds day by day
until the tiny drops of time fill up
the border of one square in an array.
A trick of record-keeping to account
for how the earth’s rotations do not match
her revolutions by a small amount,
it staunches leaking time — a perfect patch.
But far more minutes than the annual lack
have slipped my grasp; my claimed priorities
with daily deeds are far more out of whack
than days with years. One hollow hope I seize:
that countless thoughtless hours through which I’ve burned
are somewhere kept, someday to be returned.
When it was first read I thought it sounded like a Valentine’s Day poem. Your thoughts were very interesting.
Sean, I’m impressed how you are planning four years in advance. Lol
I took your complaint about the lack of Leap Day poems as a challenge. Still very rough, but I have four years to polish it.
Leap Year
The calendar holds out its little cup
to catch the dripping seconds day by day
until the tiny drops of time fill up
the border of one square in an array.
A trick of record-keeping to account
for how the earth’s rotations do not match
her revolutions by a small amount,
it staunches leaking time — a perfect patch.
But far more minutes than the annual lack
have slipped my grasp; my claimed priorities
with daily deeds are far more out of whack
than days with years. One hollow hope I seize:
that countless thoughtless hours through which I’ve burned
are somewhere kept, someday to be returned.
When it was first read I thought it sounded like a Valentine’s Day poem. Your thoughts were very interesting.
Sean, I’m impressed how you are planning four years in advance. Lol