The Ugly Days of Late February

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
Round midnight, earth dreams cozily
under white blankets.  Days later,
roads once vibrant black as a grand piano
become gray, crusted with corrosive salt. 
Trees stripped, perfect illusion falling
like a naked old face. The smooth jazz
of hibernation turns to rude
not-yet-spring awakening.


Written for Shay’s Word Garden Word List, RDP, dVerse, and loosely inspired by The Sunday Muse


  1. This is simply beautiful, JYP! I love “black as a grand piano” and how it links with the “smooth jazz of hibernation”. I love the feel of the poem. I love “perfect illusion falling like a naked old face”. And I love your choice of photo too. 🙂 As soon as I saw the Chinese characters I felt nostalgia for my time in China – especially as it’s the only winter Christmas I can remember ever having.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, yes. I feel this DEEP, having once lived in Ohio. Reminds me of a Seuss line: “Gray day. Everything is gray. I watch, but nothing moves today.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love a lot of these lines: “roads once vibrant black as a grand piano” is really great. I can just see the hard lacquer shine of new, wet tarmac. And excellent: “The smooth jazz of hibernation.”

    Liked by 1 person

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