February shrugs off its winter ermine coat, she so tightly snuggled in. 

Lengthening days of sunlit rays, send silent streams of winter’s tears slipping away to blend with water ways. 

Now with a wide awakening yawn February stretches from her slumber state, but stops and gasps!

February hid herself under the pristine winter shawl and now blushes at what the retreating robe reveals:

Her crown is bald, with embarrassing brown sticks, poking upwards in clouded sky. A broken fan, with crooked fingers that the mocking winds stroke through. 

Her feet, shod now with faded, trampled blades worn thin to points of mud and jagged stone, taunt her humble origin. 

Yet, with dignity she gathers up the drab veneer and pushes forward midst jeering blasts.

She struggles onward, cheeks blushing pink, then red, with effort and loving knowledge of what’s ahead.

Soon barren branches will abound with spring green leaves that flow with youthful charm. 

Her footfalls prepare the paths for rainbow flowers blooming in softened earth. 

And between her head and feet, layers of greens, washes of blue, and mountains of purple will overthrow this brief moment of shame. 

February pulses with hope and love, pushing through scorn and awkwardness. Fearless February marches forward determined to spill new life into the dawning drab year.

No wonder the month of February is donned in pinks and reds.

It pulses with determination to renew life and love.  

February knows the splendor that lies quite near.