April

It is April. Will we let
Chaucer forever define 
This month? Is it truly
Cruel, tempting us with
The blooms that come
From the seeds we plant
Last year, perennially
Growing in the Spring.
Is it cruel because of
Its fecundity? Does it
Scare the puritan in us?
It is April. Can we claim 
It for ourselves, reject
The harsh judgement that
Chaucer made? Glide from
This month into a rich
May, full of the colors 
The April primrose laid
Out for our delight? It
Is April, and soon its 
Promises will bring the
Lush landscape of May.