Spring is April is Poetry

 

Vincent van Gogh (1887)

April returns in the clockwork
of the calendar, and spring returns, too,
but not in sync with time constructs.
We have spring warmth in February and
March winds and rain in April, oh,
surprising month when life is born.
 
Sap rises and with it I radiate
spring fever—a welcome dis-ease,
with a readiness to propagate
ideas, or to rub up against
another life so every inch of skin
tingles and remembers.
 
Names are irrelevant to memories
of physical comfort with the hot blood
of desire and fulfillment, or alone,
of sun and moon baths, daring to
be naked and alert to teeming life.
With aging, nakedness moves into dreams.
 
April is flashy, but I’m no longer
radiating for others to see.  Oh,
I’m taller and attuned to budding trees
but not so a passerby or best friend
would notice.  I find expression
in poetry, and let its pollen flow.

For Sumana's prompt "April" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast