April’s Fourth Snow

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,


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

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