He saidabout Aprilwhat anybody would sayabout such a monththat it breeds colorto beat back shadowsscent to tempteven the most staid merchantto hookyThat is what April doesand we all know itWhy else songscelebrating winter’s endin the muddy throes of AprilWhy else a new signignoring an otherwiseportentous horoscopein favor of new bloomOnly in Aprilis lilac-breath acceptableeven encouragedSo when he says Aprilis for loversApril carries my tunein its gutI shall wait until thento sow my seedsit is April’s gardenof which he singsWe all know the wordsand sing along
Poem #12 for April, for Angie’s prompt to the Real Toads using a word list from The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot.
I’ve been so sick! Seems I’m turning a corner and starting to feel better, but catching up to produce 30 poems in April? We shall see.