Friday, May 1, 2009

Poetry Friday


is the start of May

but April

isn’t over.

Such a glorious month.

Usher of spring. In April,

plants reawaken

and push with strength

through thick dark dirt.

See the plants stretch tall.
See the buds.
See the blossoms.
See flowers on sturdy stalks
survive the unrelenting rain
to lift their faces to the sun.

Every crocus

every tulip

every daffodil

is April.

So forget your calendar.

Forget everything you thought you knew.

Just look to the garden --

the riotously resplendent and enduring garden --

squint your eyes a bit,

and it's almost as if April...

... has just begun.