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.
Tag Archives: #springtime
Dear one,
My heart is constant
Even as the weather
Blows hot and cold, as
Moody as any feckless
Lover, changeable as
A young man's fancy
In the spring, faithless
As it rummages in my
Wardrobe, tugging at
Wintry coverings one
Day, pulling out lighter
Garb the next, windy
Or ill-tempered, warm
And endearing on an
Afternoon with hope
And promises. I hold
Steadfast, unmoving
In the shifting storms,
My heart full of love
And memories
Tamara, really 