It is February, you blustery, snowy, wimp of a month

with fewer days than the others. You’ll show them.

You shift your shapes and shades with brilliant

white crystals or gray and black days.

You whip the winds across our plains,

making them dance and swirl and rage.

Even in the mildest year, you trick us with sun

and a huge full moon when day is done.

You call upon a northern high to beckon frozen friends.

You chase us indoors and freeze our ponds as day ends.

We know your days are numbered and winding down

while paient bulbs wait to bloom deep underground.

The snow flowers and crocus wait for their sunny call

to wipe out February’s chill and warmly cheer us all.

(Illinois Senior Poet Scroll Award – 2012)