Spring

Don’t let April fool you.  It isn’t only in the buds

That your hope is renewed, but the aromas, the tastes in the air

Entering your flesh in ways it wasn’t awake to know.

Close your eyes, feel the sun play into your pores

recalling how cold you were for so long,

how much you depend on the renewal

of the world for your own survival.

Don’t let April fool you.  It’s not just little truths

That poets turn to for lifting their spirits,

and it’s not only the cruelest months

that wake you to your integration with the trees,

the snails, the details all around. 

Think of the months before, the worn light

Graying your sight from the thought of revival.

Maybe it was always there, that hope

And when it comes, you call it April.

Don’t let it fool you – it’s here whenever

You have the courage to remember it.