April

I shall remember April,
Who has a touch to preen.
And wrap the country-side,
In all her tender green.

She captures new-life everywhere,
Soft-sketched in varied tones.
As sweet-sap rises in the stem,
And crickets wait beneath the stones.

She whispers to the wind-chimes,
As violins try to tease.
The currents...as they tremble,
And pass beyond the trees.

Perfume is sifting downward,
With the freshness of the air.
Where ever spring takes off her hat,
There's no time can compare.

Yes...I shall remember April,
Where dark clouds try to speak.
Of fountains...with their kiss of rain,
To fall across my cheek.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

April 60th birthday celebration.