A letter to April

Dear April,

Softly gray, your cool touch reaches out

Often at night, when our hands would brush

The way they casually do in dreams

I miss you then

So achingly that the night sky weeps

For the lack of light in its life

As when the moon goes

To those far away places

Where both she and you quietly hide

These mornings come with birdsong

And I remember when we sat under the cherry tree

The first smell of cut grass this year

Brought me to a fever pitch

My heart pounding, legs moving

Towards a place that I may find you

That things I once held true now waver

When the cold dead grip of winter

Erupts in green and frenzied shoots

You hold my heart, blushing and pink

On the end of a tulip stem

Tell me, now, by what magic

Do you bring me back to life?

Longingly yours,

This fleeting spring