April II
On the back of a vulture
she shouted in
sending spews of hardened hail
as piercing as a winters gale.
On the root of a flower
she clorfully showed
her dress of green, and ripe buds
on her tips.
On the drop of dew she made a road to the sun.
A smile awakening us from a winter’s sleep we danced and sang, “April."
she shouted in
sending spews of hardened hail
as piercing as a winters gale.
On the root of a flower
she clorfully showed
her dress of green, and ripe buds
on her tips.
On the drop of dew she made a road to the sun.
A smile awakening us from a winter’s sleep we danced and sang, “April."
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