FEBRUARY

He mumbled under his breath with
each shovel of heavy wet snow.
He cursed the fact that he lived in a
state with overcrowded neighborhoods,
friggin’ crazy unpredictable weather.
One day it’s snowing with a wind chill
of 15 degrees, the next day it’s 55.

He raised his middle finger to the sky as
thick flakes fell on his head, fogging up
his glasses, soaking his hood and hat.
All those layers, all that lifting, made
his lower back and chest drip with sweat.

He told his wife that he couldn’t stand it
much longer, mentioned again that they
should consider moving to a warmer place,
not Florida, but maybe Texas or South Carolina.

Today, it was different when he woke up
and pushed aside the living room curtains.
This snow day was nothing like the rest,
just too damn perfect for him to believe.
Trees looked like they were dipped or
coated in cake frosting, snow clung onto
the limbs, the picket fence, the shrubs.
Not a flake was out of place this morning.
Several cardinals flitted branch to branch,
redder than ever in all the whiteness.

The power of all this beauty at once hurt
his chest and made a tear form in the edge
of his eye as he fell in love with the fallen
snow for the first time since his childhood.
Back when it was pure, untouched, unspoiled
as it covered the backyards with no fences
and made him wonder where it was that he
left his rubber boots. It was a time in his life
when everything seemed all right in February.