Go! Leave! Take to flight, February,
for you linger overlong
with such a darksome mood, chill and airy
that sings too mournful a song.
The shortest among monthly brethren,
but not short enough, forsooth,
as we wait for the Spring to set in
and you cling by nail and tooth.
It’s true they stole from you a few days
to add to their collection,
but no one wants you here anyways,
and would rather you had none.
You are the Georgia of Winter days,
the state I hate driving through
on my way to the Gulf’s golden bays—
Florida without the view.
We are all tired of this bleak Winter
and its cold dark solemn hours
so we’ll be in the garden center,
looking at the Spring flowers.