January is not for me.

I just don’t like this time of year

when weather chases out good cheer.

Layers of clothes make me feel unfree.

Cold and bleak are not my cup of tea.

Oh, just give me sanctuary

because after January

is the deceiving pint-sized bully

that might be the death of me –

the no-good, terrible February.

The calendar says 59 days

except when there are 60

which just sounds a bit shifty.

There had to be a few other ways

than stretching out this miserable phase.

One month is bad but two is worse.

The two together kind of hurts.

Somehow the two feel like eight

as if in caught in one long date

like some kind of Groundhog Day curse.

© 2025 ck’s days