Mid-February keeps it’s time,
holding tight to snow and earth
frozen to raw mud. Before sap runs
this month will ignore returning birds
and snap and swallow budding
back to whiteness, allowing no green
except naked grass, uncovered where sun melts snow
February clings to ice, refusing to admit
winter’s back is broken
crocuses are stirring.
Ah, those dear little crocuses … where there’s life there’s hope 🙂
Yes! I am eager to see where the squirrels and chipmunks moved the bulbs to this year 😉 My patch of crocuses skips around the yard thanks to them.
I like February. It is a short month and Spring will be here soon. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
I don’t mind it either, it is kind of like winter’s last gasp before spring. Thanks so much for commenting.
crocuses are stirring….yes…yes…yes… spring is close and i can’t wait for it to spread its flower gown across the land…sigh…dEEEP sigh…smiles
Hi Claudia–oh, yes, me too…so me too. This one triggered another about seed starting.
Crocuses are stirring – but snowdrops are out in Scotland, which is a sure sign that the darkest days of winter are behind us. There might still be snow and ice to come, but the days are getting longer.
This is a lovely poem, full of fine observation and bringing hope.
Tony, thank you! So nice to hear about the snowdrops–what a lovely way nature has to let us know winter is almost over.
Love all the crackling consonance in the last stanza!
Thanks, JCC 😉
Yes yes yes! What I really miss, at my old home peepers started singing in mid-March. First sound of one solitary peeper, soon to be many, was cause for a dance and a beer, no matter time of day.
Oh, I can’t wait. I will let you know when I hear them first, and we’ll celebrate 😉
I can feel them stirring…and I can’t wait! Wonderful piece, Susan…and as beautiful February sound…even with the mud…those blooms can’t come fast enough for me!
Know what you mean, Tash–getting that restless feeling, almost like a need to stretch.
mm mmm wonderful hopeful green. (although, I have honestly been loving the winter ; ) )
I have been liking the snow, Jane, although I am restless to start planting and playing in the garden already…
Yes! So optimistic…glad to hear that winter’s back is broken and those crocuses are stirring!! Bring on spring.
smiles…i like that spring is already stirring…it is as well…it may not seem it but it is just below the surface and will soon be on us…smiles.
Yes! I turn into a horrible brat in Feb/March, as my seeds germinate. I want to be OUTSIDE, in the garden. Impatient me.
Yes, spring is sprouting somewhere down there. Beautiful description. Poems like this one make me wish I had a time machine!
Sigh. Me too! Can I come along for the ride if you build one?
“Raw mud” and “naked grass” loved these descriptions. 🙂
Gretchen, thank you so much. I love that word, “raw.”
Yes! And thank goodness for that!
Happens every year, and it still amazes us… 🙂
It certainly does. Perhaps because it should.
i love crocuses, ours come in autumn, perhaps a different species, pale pink and delicate. best wishes for your spring =)
Thank you, Lucy!
I like how you describe this as a “broken back.” That seems to me to be the perfect image, the perfect metaphor here. I find that it is something you can watch and feel happen if you pay very close attention.
Oh, i agree. That phrase, ‘winter’s back is broken” came to me a few years ago, in the middle of my block. Glad it came back to me for this poem.
I have long felt that February and August are paired. It isn’t just that they are six months apart, it is that the form the outer perimeter of something bigger than the seasons themselves. I don’t know what that is, but it is something that has been sitting with me for years.
Oh! I can sense what you mean, right under the solar plexus. You NEED to write about that, Jeremy. One breaks winter, the other summer, and they are both the last gasps (sort of) of a season before the true equinox. Something mystical is in there.
I feel like the elongation and the shortening of the days has everything to do with this, as you are saying.
Yes–perhaps one triggers our pineal gland (where we secrete melatonin and linked to light and day length) to slow down a bit (August), while the other wakes it up (February). I do think this is something we feel on an instinctive level that has not quite been civilized out of us.
ah…. waiting for spring…a perennial pastime
Thanks for visiting!