How cold the sun of April
first day playing games
of spring return to winter chills.
Blow ye wild, racing winds
slip thru the stilled and silent trees
hovering between the naked forms
and promised new growth of life.
Hear the cry and howl of the hollow
echoing goodbyes and hellos
waiting for March gusts to die away.
Sing loud and bold old birds of prior years
pretty, pretty, pretty tweetings
of April's spring into May days
as showers fall hard and icy cold.
Young, newly paired wrens and sparrows
begin the staked out housings
gather nesting materials for soon to be laid eggs.
Croci, daffodil, forsythia burst forth
in shaded emerald green starts
soaking in the sunlight warm
ready to glow in bright and brilliant hues.
Others soon to peek thru the earthened ground
breaking grit and graveled clay dirt
in sprigs tendered in their greenery.
Yet comes April in its unpredictability, yellowed sun
teasing life to come forth and be reborn
then sear it chilled within its grip
amidst bluing cloudless skies.
These are the days of every life
enticing and cautionary
hesitating and holding back
all the April fools.
Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2019
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