Ode to the February Shed...
Oh dear February Friend.
You come suddenly and unwanted into my life.
Your static-y magnetism mingles with mud and sand and scurf.
You get in my eyes, in my mouth, and somehow tie yourself in knots through my fleece.
Lord knows how you find your way through my underarmour and into my bra.
You seem so full of yourself.
And my Neti Pot and dryer lint trap are also full of you.
I know you will be here a while, and I am already...
tired of you.