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.