I might reserve the right to do another later, but this is what I thought about during the morning commute. Some things are inevitable.
The end of April comes rushing up now
wrapped in rains and cool nights and promises
of some warmer days that May is hoarding
and nights that aren’t so very skeptical.
The birds follow their ancestral wisdom
and turn back to the northern homes and nests.
Those who chart migrations follow on their
calendars and maps, yearly rituals.
Some note the first bursting of daffodils
and leafing of trees covering the hills
Others, smelling the warm, moist nights recall
when love first broke the winter’s long silence
Hearts turning towards each other like sunflowers
that cannot resist the spring’s heated pull.
Your thoughts make me happy.
This one certainly speaks to me, for reasons sweet and also sad.
Slightly buffed version:
The end of April comes rushing up now
wrapped up in rains, cool nights and promises
of some warmer days that May is hoarding
and nights that aren’t so very skeptical.
The birds follow their ancestral wisdom
and turn back to the northern homes and nests.
Those who chart migrations follow on their
calendars and maps, yearly rituals.
Some note the first bursting of daffodils
and leafing of trees covering the hills
Others, smelling the warm, moist nights recall
when love first broke the winter’s long silence
Hearts turning towards each other like sunflowers
that cannot resist the springs’s heated pull.