The sun is bright
in the February sky.
Few clouds are
in its way and
the brisk wind
takes care of
any problems
in that arena.

Shadows are elongated
on the dune and
beach grass has
been tucked in by
the snow that survives
the radiation,
because
the cold temperature
supersedes
the gentle warmth
I would normally expect.

These are dog days though,
and my expectations
are usually squelched
or excused by
the low-grade depression
of my inner spirit.
I have not been executed
but feel the line
to that end
is shortening
in a manner
not perceived before.

This will end,
this down feeling,
before long.
I am halfway through
the discontent of winter.
Then my path
back to the soil,
the fragrance
of the woods,
to the sound
of nature in spring
will be at hand.
I will wait solemnly,
sometimes stoically,
keeping my focus on
what I can do,
want to do
or should do.
I am fortunate
in that
I carry my own
measuring stick and
that only I know
if I am measuring up
to the expectancies
I have of myself.

No one else need to know.
I am sure
they have enough
on their plate,
piling up,
to take much
notice of others.

The wheel will
keep turning,
the trauma and
drama of
downheartedness
will pass.
My recession
will be over and
like the crocus and
daffodils of spring,
I will make my way
up through
the bed of
midwinter melancholy.

Steve Haarman
February 5, 2015 ^