The Cruelest Month

This poet says the shortest one’s
also the cruelest.
It surpasses December and January
for the coldest.
And probably unchallenged
in the monthly rankings as
the most-misspelled.
Like the word “misspelled.”
Some in the English-speaking world
never master including
that seemingly silent extra consonant.
I’m insufferable that way with my
deep pool of knowledge.
But I long ago learned
a most-valuable lesson in one of those
chilly little months.
During the short wolfish period
of my life, I did plot
to win the favors this cute girl.
She believed there were more than
those two worthy (and manly) holidays
in the second month of the year.
I forgot to recognize
THE most-important “holiday” in that month.
So, don’t be like Caesar and I,
forgetting The Ides of February,
or thereabouts. (Yes, I’m insufferably right.
You can look it up.)
By the Saints–or at least the one
whose name starts with “V”–
you’ll find she can make February
seem longer for you than merely by adding
that oft-forgotten “r.”
The cruelest month can grow colder,
and oh so crueller still.

This tortured bit of verse came about from my own tortured efforts to write ANYTHING, as I crawl my way back from my debilitating back issues and concomitant spasms of my emotional spine. So I took a list of words from an old short story prompt and tossed them against the virtual refrigerator door with some of my own. This first draft stuck. Here are the words: monthly, cute, shortest, wolfish, plot, master, world, valuable and December.