Poems (Kennedy)/Old Calendar
THE OLD CALENDAR
A SHEAF of days this ribbon held, A whole long yearOf shade and shine and snow and bloom Was gathered here On this old calendar.
It dwindled slowly, leaf by leaf; Just like a roseWhose full-blown petals seek the sod Was each day's close On this old calendar.
And now—the end. And there is left For witness brief,The painted scroll and silken band That held the sheaf On this old calendar.
But somewhere, sometime we will find The gathered leavesBound in a record of our lives— The chaff and sheaves On this old calendar.