February

homeward

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I go about my February days

cold and evaporated

this time of year is a standstill

hard as a stone

tedious and grey and arid as bone.

Few times I have closed my eyes and breathed in the sun

only a glimpse

and I dream of her light

how she quenches my thirst

but winter's veil ensues, pulling me deep into its womb

and I sink into lonesome and longing;

for the dewy rhythm of blooming and bright

to sweep through my inhales and dance on my skin.

Until then I dream, eyes closed, for the end of hibernation

and I greet the inklings of warmth and wildflowers

as I go about my February days.

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