The Beastly Month of February

Usually I like to ignore this month in general and be grateful it's the shortest month of the year. It's hung right in the midst of Winter and teases of Spring to come. It mocks back at the landscape and takes in the bleakness and sends a few dark tidings in its wake.

Oh the time of February, the time that wound down from the frenzied January. The long December before that tied off with celebrated days and long past when February comes and settles for its reign. Its waif-like arms enfold the air but it never grips too hard. It doesn't have to, it's a dread in dreary tones. It's unnerving without announcing itself.

When the last week of February begins to close and March is almost ringing, the dolesome touch of a sedentary force restricts enthusiasm and makes no impression of hunger or strife but in a backwards fleeting way it gives no solace. But that's the way February began too. It's one long day and night disguised like a whole month. Some weird inverted time frame. It has to be because you never feel like you've slept, waken or eaten.

It's almost like you're suspended in a force between struggle and unwilling resolve. The Beastly Month of February feels dead and it's like standing in the Realm of the Dead. Or rather limply tilted against a wall of fog. This is February's terror on the humans.

One bright spot shines, though, on Valentine's Day. It wasn't seen as such a hopeful day in 1929 come to think of it, though. So onto the strange murmurings of February that winds on, and we hear, but we don't answer because February only hears us once every four years. When that extra day we wonder at. Even then we don't really know why we would say a word.

  
An Observation by Iggy 2010