Song for April

Not one of your days has passed, sweet April,
without my thinking, “Surely this is a dream.”
And yet, each of your hours revealed more
loveliness than any mere human mind
could, in its loftiest hours, bring into being.
And all of it, without our deserving even
the humblest flower.  What love the Yes
bestows!  What tender, magnificent grace!

A Saturday in Spring

Late Sunlight on Oak

Throughout the day, thunder rumbled
beneath thick clouds and rain drenched
the lilacs, the dogwood,
and the deep greening lawn, its fragrance
filling our rooms.  We went about our tasks,
moving softly, the atmosphere of springtime
gentling our movements.  As evening
settled in, the sun broke through,
gilding the oak’s emerging leaves
with a hue that only spring can know,
the color of hope fulfilled and
promises kept.   And we drifted to sleep
that night, our hearts full of Yes
and gladness.

Saluting April

Sky After Storm

After the storm, the setting sun
swept the sky with fiery gold,
illuminating clouds as large
as mountains towering above
the trees.   You could imagine
a thousand trumpets sounding
a grand hurrah, as if the sky
itself was saluting April
for all she had given, for all
the wonders she had birthed,
for all that she had overcome,
and now was crowning her glory.
And we who watched in awe
felt the Yes sing in our hearts
and gave our assent
with great joy.


Green Lace

Woodland in Spring

Now it’s all green lace, fresh as rain,
and flowers, wantonly strew
across the woodland’s floor,
crowding the roadsides, dancing
free as wind in the unplowed fields
to the songs of countless birds.
You can keep your Summerland.
When I die, I want to go to the place
in heaven where it’s eternal Spring.

On Finding a Trillium

White Trillium Blossom

“Thank you” seems so small a phrase,
so wholly inadequate in the face of this burgeoning green,
of these fields and hills, spilling over now with flowers
beyond counting, in hues beyond  our power to name.
Still, I kneel before the pristine trillium and can conjure
no other response.  What utter mystery,
how such varied beauty can rise from mere earth,
and that we should be here, in the midst of it,

The Scent of Lilacs

Deep Purple Lilacs

Along the border separating our yard
from our neighbors, lilacs bloomed,
a long row of them, in shades of
lavender and deep purple, maroon
and white, their fragrance wafting
through late April’s open windows,
scenting the entire house.
Great bouquets of them graced
our kitchen’s table, and we sat,
after meals, gazing at them
in silence, breathing their perfume
as if it were dessert.  Among
all the fragrances  of spring, the
scent of the lilac, above all others,
fills me with pure rapture,
and with memories sweet and pure,
carrying me back to childhood,
carrying me back to home.