A Poem- For February 
What can be held in snow drifts,
wind from the ice dammed roofs,
glare of yesterday which tastes
of elements off prior concerns? 
Feline lens reflective in night,
it taught silent advocacy towards
thoughts not meant to finish.
A dilatation behind mirrored air 
which carries past our names,
as pronouns fade into strength
of new decorums spoken over,
and over. A hole in the ground 
filled by the moon has also been
a calendar drafted by the sun.
A warm room, a table inside
with letters of quiet signatures.

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