February

February pierced the everlasting silence
With a whirlwind of desolate, pitch-black raindrops.
He gathered his lips into a grimacing sneer
So heedlessly the lightning struck the Earth
As frightening as a ghost in the deadly hours of the night.

Then he paraded through the sodden wood
And perched on a damp oak log
To alarm the forest creatures by worsening the inclement storm
With tears from the towering pine’s brimming eyes plummeting
Onto his gray, woolen cap balanced atop his bald head.