Day Two
A Badly Written Poem, for this, February, the Most Hated of Months

I have always hated February.

It is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, month.

It’s short,
But it seems to take that as a dare
To see how much of a punch it can pack
Into fewer days.
Every year it tries to top itself.

February always arrives
Without warning
Always a day
(or three)
earlier than expected.

It houses one of the more irritating
Commercial holidays.
(Look, I’m all for celebrating love,
but must everything be
pink and roses?
What if you like violets?).

There is always too much work.
Always.
It’s like January extended its vacation
and then three of your coworkers quit
and now your assistant called in sick.

Then there’s the fact that it’s f*cking freezing.

I hate February.
Nothing good comes of a February.

But two years ago,
there was a small light.
in February.

And so,
This hated month
Became a time for reflection.
I stopped hating
February
For a little while each day.
And instead I contemplated
Love.

I love Love, February.

I still hate February.

And that’s okay.

I can do both.

To quote Whitman:
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

Maybe,
I don’t hate February as much.
Now.

Only with the fire of a thousand burning suns
Instead of a million.

That’s progress, right?

Love,
February