February is a harsh month.

I think of February as a trial, we have to go through, to deserve Spring.

It feels like the worst month. The weary daylight filtered
by winter air. My skin dry & blotchy & lifelessly pale.

In the middle of it, sits this "holiday" of pink & red & candy hearts,
diamond commercials & the antique idea of romance.

But at the end of it, March shows up. With nights not always below-freezing.
Starting of little green things, to poke up from under frozen layers.

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