February Is Short, Cold, Snowy, Pure, Dark, And Pristine

I love the month of February, The shortest and coldest month of the season, For an array of personal reasons. And yet, it feels like Feb is the longest, For the events that happen haphazardly, Amidst treacherous winter storm blasts. Quasi everything is frozen and solid near the nest Of the American bald eagles, Except the Mardi Gras masks under the rumbles. February is the season of love, The month of Saint Valentine, A quintessential paradise cove, Where lovers take refuge. Pure, Pristine, Snowy, short, Pure, dark, and lovely; Feb's now The celebratory month of Black history, One wonders why and how We get the shortest one. It's another story That we should let the nomad seagulls Decipher. No bathers on the sandy beaches, Solely, a few birds are perched on the branches, Far away from the cribs of the bald eagles. February is a month of a kaleidoscopic contrast, Where snowfalls happen quite often, And hardcore lovers dream warmth under a heaven Full of hope, love, beauty, and ice. Copyright © January 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.