winter blues

winter,
by month three,
deep into
the dark throes
of February
bores you.
enough you scream.
all the books
have been read,
the movies watched.
the stews
eaten. even
the Christmas candy
is gone.
the shovel
sits in
the hall next
to the bag of
salt.
your spot in
the lot has been
carved out
a dozen times.
the thrill
is gone.
let march arrive
with her
howling winds
and pretend
spring. you
cheer each flower
that opens
it's pretty
face.