In this February, time stands still.
Winter hurls snow upon the ground.
Precipitation builds all around me
And freezes my hopes in place.
Snow may melt only to later turn to ice.
Moisture hardens, softens,
And solidifies once again–
Until this state of being feels encased
In the frost that hides all new beginnings
Within its haphazard and angry drifts.
In this space, I can only see
What appears as barren waste.
Ice has formed all around me.
Time’s progression feels frozen.
I am congealed within this landscape.
In this February, time stands still.
—Written by Sandy Heights
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
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