
For April
Rain snow rain
wet slap on windows.
Winter slides away
with each bird
carrying hope
past my door.
Twigs and bits
of last year’s life
to build nests
and shelter dreams.
What have I learned
in all these springs?
Nothing is ever lost.
All is gathered
recycled
repurposed
pressed into service
made over again
made right again.
High in the apple tree
a robin sings.
Gradually, gaunt-faced guilt
goes into the ground.
And waiting like
a wide-eyed child
I see emerging
among the dead
a gift of green
riding through the rain
fragile but sure
because it is time
to come alive again.
Copyright 2019/by Kim Pollack
Beautiful and hope-filled as always! I ❤ your poetry.
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Thank you, Jason! ♥️
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