Poetry and Writes

February (POEM)

The sky is an opaque
Northwest blue and

Marshlands teem with whistles
And trills. While the wind speaks

Of nighttime rain to come,
The clear skies of February

Give way
To the dictatorship of March.

Lithe songs from
Hidden birds

Pepper the mood
Of a reluctant season

That will soon inevitably
Be leaving.

Does nothing fill me with
A sweeter joy

Than seeing the age of
Something new?

For I have lived through it
And I will live through more,

Watching through grateful eyes
At the things others

Might never be favored to witness.
So thank you, disgruntled February,

Thank you for letting me see.