February Days

One of those February Days
The sun sneaks up
Through crystalline air
Makes you suddenly aware of the price
Of breathing
and solitude
becomes your only
Blanket.

Funny solitude,
I am surrounded
By infinite people
In every direction
But each sequestered in large jacket bubbles
Lined with a need to vanish
from the street immediately.
No eye contact.
Curiosity still hibernating.

February is the heaviest month
Already burdened with
the fatigue of winter,
No fleeting March hope of
Relief.

Even our daydreams
Stuck under the permafrost,
Gray steady madness
Stretching so far
You wonder
if there has ever been anything else
but salt dusted streets
Laced with pot holes.

Even under the
Exhaust poisoned snow,
Winter’s faded coat
Smothering everything in tired resignation.

You offer a crude sacrifice,
pull the air into your lungs
And let it sting sharply,
a one minute Jolt from the
dullness of the day.

February Days © Mike Chernoff 02/19/2019