Early April teases us with summery
days, then drops us back into the cold.

Don’t despair:  The squishiness of the ground
beneath your feet flows with the sweet liqueurs
Chaucer imbibed.  Those sodden tatters
on the path, they’re winter jackets the new
leaves fling down for the sun to walk on.

If these signs aren’t enough to poke holes
in your melancholy, then try to notice
the tiny green flames already licking
the air and, yellow in that green mist,
the bonfires of the forsythia.

Keep your feet on the earth and trust her joy
to shine on you like an answered prayer.

Thomas R. Smith



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