I don't like January,
It is a cold month
And I enjoy the sun.
In January the sun
Is a pale yellow,
Without an ounce of warmth.
The pale yellow
Of the yolk,
Of a store bought egg.
Is it wrong to prefer
The Orange yolk
Of my own birds
Running strong and free?
And even on warm days
The wind is cold.
In January the wind
Is out of the North.
Not from the southeast
And the Gulf of Mexico.
No, I do not enjoy January.
It is a stark, dreary
Time of year.
Leafless  trees,
And skies the color of denim
Washed a million times over.
There is a knawing
In my gut.
And a sad song in my heart
That longs,
For the rebirth
Of late February.
1/10/2017
Alton, Texas