What business do you,
December’s strapping scent of snow,
–accompanied by the frigid slap
of January and February air,
followed by the insulting onslaught
of March’s maddening winds–
have to return so rudely
in the midst of our
Dear, albeit unaware, April?
~
You are not, by Nature a cruel month
(No only heartbroken poets have deemed you so)
Under the crisp white blanket
of your fourth snow,
I sense your secret:
Regardless of the circumstance,
under your quiet care
the crocus never cease to grow!
And though this year’s buds
may be damaged beyond repair
(through no fault of your own!)
the roots of the tubers, and lilac
continue to breed and burrow
deep into the covered Earth
where they patiently await,
remember,
and bear
softly stirring secrets
filled with melancholy and mirth
that only you, kind April show
and share
with your sisters May and June
–who regardless of the weather
and upon your persistent birthing
never despair
and never come too soon.
©catherineglynn 2020
letters to the world 