The Bones of her Winter

Within icy chambers of a cavernous womb
The Goddess January prepares to give birth to another year's bounty

Thirty one children

"Stark and bare bones" is this brooding mare of a month
Each of her births, as unyielding as she, the one who bore them
Each is born ready to pare and taper
Each is cold enough, and grim enough to reap and gather

With never so much as a flinch

Mortals save your tears, pleas, and prayers
These truncatus gatherers hear not

Breathe! 
Fill your nostrils! 
Open your mouth and taste the air!
It is what it is!

This Goddess will come, year after year,  to every home and give birth on every door step.
None will be spared her visit
Not those who have made their sacrifices
Not even those with hyssop branch and blood in basin

So better to face and know

Better to open the door to the bare bones of winter
Better to look Goddess January in the eyes