Letter to January

Dear January,
Who invited you?
Each year you barge in,
Unsought and imperious,
Cocksure and clad
In elaborate attire
Of sludge and soot.
You interrupt my holiday,
Upset my decadent repose.
Your officious demands
For the dawn of a new era
Of tedious restraint
Congeal the crimson dreams
That lately danced within me.
Your frigid manner
Sticks to my boots
And blanches my step –
And if you will not oblige me
With your departure
Then I will take my leave
And return with the purple martins
On a daffodil morning.