February

Bleak February, masquerading as the month of love, though no redeeming qualities are born in you. No purple berry nor fuchsia flower blooming brightly, just sighing earth between pale moons of snow. The garden fairy sleeps undisturbed in frozen blankets, waiting for sweet robins to awaken her. Heavy to carry, this dreary pause in changing seasons, colorless like a vintage family photo. March, please be wary - you will have so much tidying to do, erasing death and decay to welcome spring