Friday, April 12, 2019

THIS FOURTH MONTH



APRIL TENDERS A CERTAIN SWEETNESS


It was in this fourth month

I thought that maybe
This time it would be different
No tease of earth's humid breath


Gulping in the dappled sunlight
Only to have it steal away
And smile sweetly
As the damp vapor
Pauses by the primrose.

Yellow tenders the favorite color;
The first and sweetest blush;
Far from shorter days
To ones that stretch lazily
Between the grass and sky.



Can you hear the blackbirds hum?
Or the green grass as it lengthens and bends?
Don't you dread the promise of the sundrops leaving
Shortly after they've tickled our resolve to adore them?
Still, the richest certainties
Are those of the fourth month
Surely spreading its beauty somewhere else
If not here...

Of expanding earth's breadth
In the most fantastical manner.
poem written by L.P.G.


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