Dear February,
You do not rush the earth.
You arrive softly,
carrying winter’s memory
and spring’s intention.
The cold still lingers,
but the light knows how to wait.
Snow loosens.
Silence breathes.
After months of harshness,
you teach endurance without bitterness,
love without demand.
You ask us to pause,
to trust the quiet work beneath the ground,
to believe that patience is not emptiness.
Between bare branches and first buds,
you remind us,
hope does not shout.
It stays.
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