Happy April, It's Poetry Month!

Ah, April. It's enchanting, and what better way to enjoy it than through poetry?

The 31st of March

A cold insistent rain swells the buds.

Swamp maples begin to redden, a scarlet

that taunts the corner of the eye.

Lichens swell and fur the oak boughs.

In Paradise Hollow, a mourning cloak

idles past like an animated kerchief

haunting bare branches. Look: the wood

cock rises in feathered desire.

Green uncoils pressed against earth,

grasses, moss, bulb spears pricking up,

the tiny leaves of pesky chickweed.

The first slug of spring extends itself

like a yawn across the sand. My next

year splits open to show its first color.

Marge Piercy