Extra

February 29

Odd, waif-like Day, the changeling of

Man's 'time' unreckoned in his years;

The moon already shows above

Thy fickle sleet - now tears!

As brief thy stay has been as though

Next Spring might seal our tryst again.

Alas, fall must four winters' snow

Ere you come back. And then?

I love thy timid aconite,

Crocus, and scilla's deep- sea blue;

Hark, too, that rainbird, out of sight,

Mocking the woodland through!

But see, it's evening in the west:

Tranquil, withdrawn, aloof, devout.

Soon will the darkness drape your breast,

And midnight shut you out!...

Sweet February Twenty Nine!-

This is our grace-year, as I live!

Quick now! this foolish heart of mine:

Seize thy prerogative!

Evening in the west has passed

And darkness wrapped me round

I didn't seize the day alas,

For to the house was bound.

I waited in from Two 'til Nine!-

At John Lewis' bidding,

There was an ancient wash machine

I needed to be ridding.

But stay! Twas not all squander'd though,

I planted up my seed trays,

With myriad herbs and flowers to grow

In coming grace-filled spring days!

With apologies to Walter de la Mare.