Contemplating June

I was born not in the month of June.
Nor anywhere near thy enchanted spring or summer,
I was borne from the night of fall in darkness neat and weathered.

I was fostered not in moonstone shine-
Nor in Alexandrite nor even in a pearly night,
But rather in the diffracted light of the opal stone.

And I know not the scent of honeysuckles, nor thy elegant rose.
Only of my calendula, just a simple marigold; whose yellow color pales to those-
Of sweet scents and brilliant hues and delicacy in repose.

But even given all thine splendors,
I would not trade thee, June; not for all the moons!
Thou art but a fantasy of sunny days and summer blooms.