The smell of fresh earth and the sound of rain drops falling. Cold icy winds in the morning and the warmth of sunshine in the evening. Ah, that's April in the mountains!
The chill of winter has fled these hills,
Scared away
by the Wild April Wind,
Which now sits purring up in the trees
As if to say:
“I don’t know if we’ll even HAVE a summer,
You’ll have to wait and see.
It all depends on me.”
A white oak leaf
brand new and bright green;
half an inch long and half a day old,
lies dead on my cold, windy deck,
it was killed and brought home
by the Wild April Wind
Which now sits purring
up in the trees.
The path to the woods has tiny green leaves
the leaves of the flowers of summer,
but the flowers still stay
safe in the earth
with an eye to the sky –
for the Wild April Wind
which is watching and purring
up in the trees.
From "To Please the Bees: Poems and Glimpses", Writing and art by John Womack.
© John Womack, 2010. All rights reserved.
