Franklin Countys First News

Poet’s Corner: April into May

April into May
by Wendy Morrill

Grieving, we cling to wood and bone,

Blowing sombre melodies between reeds,

Carving births and deaths in polished stone.

Our beloved are gone, finished with words and deeds.

The force of the river crashes ice against itself;

Caroming below the surface, the ice song,

Once haunting all the cold hours, falls silent.

In May we cannot remain in winter’s squalor,

Or balk as the lilac buds burst to flower,

As Iris blossoms swagger like swans,

As all brown flares to green, as the hours yellow

To bolting pollen and gleaming swaths of lawn.

Oh, we would lose ourselves for that spark,

If it were offered to us, to allay the dark.

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1 Responses »

  1. Beautiful rhythm and language. I like "the ice song".