Ah, February!
How I love thee,
O month that seems to last forever.
Thou are unyielding in thy coldness.
Unquenchable as the dry, dry air
in my dry, dry home,
cracking my dry, dry hands.
Your winds are biting,
Your sun shines bright
You bring the viruses
both day and night.
My children are puking.
My husband is moaning
My spirit is desperate
for my flesh to stop groaning.
