The winter’s chill blows a harsh cool air,
That blows the cold and whispers spring is near.
The dark grey clouds lies quietly undefined
As the sun peeps out afraid to shine.
People shelter behind closed doors.
Gathered round the heater with blankets near.
Hoping the TV has something good to share
As entertainment outside is too much to bear.
While February teases come out and play ,
Rain and snow will find its way,
Onto the garden,parks and alleyways.
So, that you long for the days to change.
Yet in the bleakness of the month,
Hope rises as the world awakes.
Its fragile guise lets go to the floodgate of spring’s
Warmth embrace when hibernation comes slowly to an end
MARYANN BOSAH 