Sometimes spring is Spring. Sometimes autumn’s Autumn. Winter is definitely Winter. Summer’s always Summer. At least that’s true for me. Here. Solstices, equinoxes, calendars. Celestial, human. True. False. I have many more seasons. Fewer years.
October 4, 1582: Pope Gregory XIII declared
the next day wouldn’t be the fifth.
It would be Friday, October 15, 1582.
Ten days from the Julian calendar gone.
And let’s call the new version Gregorian.
In the Pope’s defense, he was trying to fix the existing calendar which was 10 days out of sync with the seasons – but still, a Pope just zapping 10 days out of a year seems like a bit of a power grab. No birthday parties for those born October 5-14 that year.
Again I watch the sun rise east
climbing over me, stationary in my home,
and setting, as always, to the west.
If at the North or South Poles,
that’s not so. No East. No West.
Spring came early this year – a day
early astronomically speaking, but weeks earlier relatively,
based on my garden’s buds and shoots.
Perhaps not North of me and not
the Southern Hemisphere, where spring is autumn.
It’s a month of Saturdays in retirement.
Or perhaps every day is now Wednesday,
since weekend days still seem somehow special
hanging off my calendar in another color.
Are there still 24 hours each day?
Today is Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday.
You wouldn’t know it by the calendar.
Americans celebrate the birthdays of their heroes
on Mondays to extend the weekend, shop,
and make history something from the past.