FEBRUARY

February

No verses do you inspire in me
Nor are you quite January
The tail end of the winter that you may be
Alas you are the month of miscarriages
And babes born prematurely.
No mother in their right mind 
Would conceive babes in May
Not in our enlightened age
Nay! No more.
To be born in February.

Winter equinox in northern spheres 
The days are shorter than a May's breeze
Me: daydreaming of hay and the sound of nay
In lands further away
With Interludes of bouzaka, ouzo and meze

Siberian snow 
Darkens the days 
Therefore the birds are flightless and lifeless
On the barren boughs.
The air dense with mist
And the smoke from Frozen vehicles' exhaust pipes
Blackens my throat
My voice is frozen 
My blood jellylike in my bones

March is further than the silk route 
In thine northern hemisphere of mine soul.