False February
Ah, imposter! all disguised in spring duds,proposing wispy promises, tickling fancies,
murmuring in my ear--blooms and buds,
like nature-drunk Victorian romances.
Too warm for a winter month--cheater!
I've no time, no rhyme, for legerdemain,
the season must obey time's tempo and meter--
blustry whirligigs for March. April: rain.
Still, this false February softens my wintry heart--
Linger a little, if you will. A true spring will win at last,
the thawing and seeding and flowering will start
all in good time, and chilly mornings will have passed.
Poetry by William Hughes
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Written on 2026-02-19 at 19:35
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