It’s April.
Time of spring, Easter, resurrection, rejoicing or . . . not.
I’m not finding it very cheery thus far.
Perhaps it’s due to the gloomy weather we’ve been having in the low country.
At the risk of waxing too melancholy, I will invoke the spirit of writers past who conveyed it in ways quite sublime, albeit tragic/sad.
A Well-Worn Story (Dorothy Parker)
In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.
Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.
In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.
Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?
The Waste Land (T.S. Eliot) (an excerpt)
Suburban Hobo 
Thank you for taking me on this journey. I feel validated, Spring can be cruel in its exuberance. Love, love and more love to you dear friend.
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I’m hating April at the moment. xoxo
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Whenever we expect it to be different than it is, we suffer.
Confusing seasons seem to really hit home. May the sun and warmth come soon to nourish and nurture you 💛
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Here’s a cheerier one, Erica, from Mary Oliver:
“April”
I wanted to speak at length about
The happiness of my body and the
Delight of my mind for it was
April, a night, a full moon and-
But something in myself for maybe
From somewhere other said: not too
Many words, please, in the muddy shallows the
Frogs are singing.
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🙂
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It was a terrible year here! Many many months of snow and we thought Spring would never show!
Impressive choice of poetry. Hang in there. Sending love and hugs your way. ❤️
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