The thing about February is
lashing its white icy tail
asleep in a basket of sticks
unopened
yet potent
as a wind bearing the north.
The thing about February is
its longing for change
leaning toward anything different
anything beside the silvering cold
a short haircut
a new recipe
a death.
The thing about February is
the constricting band that binds
hands to hips
ankle to ankle
the urge to sleep
until spring.
The thing about February is
the garden nursery store
a rack of seed packets
but no potting soil
no flower pots
no saucers.
The thing about February is
the crust of soiled snow
hungry birds fighting for seeds
while overtaken by weariness
an old lady leaves lost for home.
The Karakesh Chronicles
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Tangled Magic 
February to me is the end of summer and looking forward to the dismal days ahead. Or perhaps, we might have an Indian Summer with long, lazy, sunny days stretching ahead into March and even perhaps, into April. One can only hope. Best. Judith
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You’re upside down to us. Funny to think of the months having such different associations.
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