February

In the month of rain and sentiment,

The snow has withdrawn, not vanished, leaving the earth naked and self-soiled. The high mountain passes remain only somewhat passable; motorists are advised to carry traction devices. Over the underpasses, under the overpasses, smoke wafts, from pallet wood and food wrappers, olfactory tracing of encampments gone permanent, a fungal undertone. Even in upscale residential districts, ornament is scant on ground. The major holidays have finished; have yet to arrive. But the camellias still bloom, red into pink into white, sentimental colors for a sentimental month, more anticipatory than fulfilled, save for a lucky few. Be close. Stand in good stead.