Februarys

Februarys
Elliot Gosselin, '23

Februarys are brutally repetitive.
           Wake up in the dark,
           Stay inside while it’s light,
           Go to sleep when it's dark again.

The cold wind will whisper
           To you, curses and hisses
           On the tip of its icy tongue,
           Its chill nipping at your heels.

The sky will become a canvas
           Of ever-rolling gray,
           The sun shut up and away
           By a dense blanket of clouds
           Hugging the once-blue sky.

Februarys are cold and dim, even
           The thickest blankets can be
           Pierced by the all-encompassing
           Chill of winter.

The sun hides its face from
           View, perhaps because the clouds
           Give it some kind of company
           Up in that lonely sky.

So tomorrow I will wake up
           In the dark
           The wind nipping at my heels
           The sun hidden from view
And I will go on to live this repetitive February day.