Poem: April Fool

April 16, 2019

Little April played a joke

when she tried on Winter’s coat.

She shed her shawl of pale green grass

the warmest, newest one she has.

April threw it to the winds,

“Now a blizzard blast begins.”

She whirled above the dry forked trees

and kicked up sleety drifts.

“Winter’s not the only one

to bring the chilliest gifts.”

Trees cried out, “My bare new buds

will die. Please, April, stop!

Bring the warmth you promised

so there may be a crop.”

March chimed in, “April dear,

I know you think it’s cool —

you dressed up just like Winter,

but don’t you look a fool?”

April cried down rainy tears

to melt off Winter’s cloaks.

She donned again her grassy shawl

to make up for the hoax.

“I’ll bring back robins, worms, mud,

and every new and yet-dreamed bud.

No more dazzling, wintry clothes.

I’ll unfreeze all I froze.

We warmed again to April, little sister spring.

She kept her promise in due time,

and brought the latest green.