April perfume

Spring cleaning, spring poem.

From east to west, earth

held its breath.

Grey gathered tendrils determined

to strangle dreams of warmth.

Flowers hid, the trees grieved;

The wearied planet hung inert

a blue apple floating

among starry leaves.

 

snows fell days turned

ice crackled

fires burned

out

 

 

 

I wrapped myself in poetry

and was forgotten.

 

And then:

 

April seeped under the door

like perfume spilled from a bottle

knocked over in spring-cleaning.

It anointed the floorboards

and scented the breeze wafting

out my open window.

The flowers, inhaling, awoke

to put on their Sunday bests.

The earth stretched breathed warmth.

Words long frozen started to flow;

 

I found myself in the thaw.