let me think
I spend hours each day doing nothing but thinking of things I should be doing. Because February is a time-thief and I forgot, yet again, to lock those oh-so-precious hours away somewhere safe. I forgot because February is also a memory-thief, and a whine-maker.
And my body refuses to do anything but semi-hibernate.
My mind burrows deeper into the cocoon of warmth, refusing to venture out unless there’s sun. Unfortunately, February and the sun are barely acquainted, even though I am forever inviting them to come for tea, sit at the table, get to know each other better. I even make cookies. But somehow wires always get crossed and they show up separately, alone, too late or too early, and me, my tea, and the table watch snow fall and birds struggle and ice form. And, of course, it’s all beautiful, because otherwise, how could we survive?
By now you can tell I have nothing to say, really. Words spin through my mind in a storm of tease, and mostly, I ignore them. I have things to do, or rather, things to think about doing. I cook and eat, sleep and read, work and build fires. I leave my house more often than I used to, because there are people I love to help care for. I do that at least. Care.
It’s Leap Year. I wonder how it is that we couldn’t somehow manage to add that extra day into June, or October? Still, an extra 24 hours is always something to celebrate. Also, it will be the last day of February, so there’s that.
Also, there’s politics. Everywhere I turn, there’s politics. I have so much to say that I just keep quiet. It’s a parade (charade?) I can’t look away from. Mother Nature seems so tame in comparison.
And look, the sun is shining. Through super-cold, frostbite-inducing, blue-as-ice air.
I’d better go enjoy it while I can.
Perhaps my face will freeze in a smile, or at least something that resembles one.
I wouldn’t want to frighten the lion.
.
.
.
February 18th, 2016 at 3:42 pm
love this so much, we are in agreement on so many issues … I smiled to think of you not frightening the lion!
February 23rd, 2016 at 4:43 pm
There are so many points, I found myself, nodding, in agreement, with the poem. But, you will pardon me, if I wait, until after the last snow storm, in April, as I dislike the season of winter, even though, I was born, in February. Guess, its someone’s idea of a joke.
March 6th, 2016 at 2:41 pm
yes, February is a time and memory thief. I had not thought of it that way, but it is the best of descriptions. It along with January are my self diagnosed self destruction months. I am always amazed I don’t hiss and blow up in a puff of smoke, as the briefcase of Mission Impossible. But here it is March. I made it. Only a few audible hisses….
February 20th, 2020 at 8:31 pm
I must have seen this before, yet I don’t remember; yes, Regrets, I’ve had a few,
But then again too few, dementia.
Yes, you have so much to to say, every word, and phrase is nuance, not nonsense.
Sense or nonsense matters not; writing is the rhythm of the words.