Friday, April 1, 2011
While the whole world is sleeping,
she pulls into the station on the Railroad of Seasons.
She floats off the train
and stands in strands of new sunlight-
her gown woven of blue fog,
and violets so purple
that they sting your eyes
April isn't one for hugs.
and so transparent at first
that you're never really certain
she is real.
She softly lifts her veil-
and her hair is braid of butterfly wings...
Her lips- pink, like azalea petals-
Her eyes, a gray-blue
like the ocean before a storm.
She seems kind enough.
Her voice carries on the breeze
like a wisp of delicate perfume
and she takes my hand
with tiny fingers of gossamer peach.
But, I know that in her bag
she brings many things
that are neither soft or sweet-
or even kind.
Folded tightly in her suitcase
are sheets of torrential rain-
pillows of flannel funnel clouds-
and ribbons of raw anger.
She will bend the clouds
and play with lightning.
She'll rip the cherry blossoms from the trees
and toss them like salmon-colored confetti
on rainy sidewalks.
Then she'll laugh.
Yet, who could not adore her
for the gifts that she brings?
She offers me a bouquet of
a field of unbelievable greenness-
and a perfect peace that my soul has not felt
since the harvest.
April is like a bird.
All blue and shimmering
like a iridescent rainbow
that hovers ever so lightly in our hearts.
We want to touch her,
but we're afraid that she'll spread her velvet wings
and fly away forever-
like a colorful kite
whose strings cannot be tethered.
I carefully take her hand and lead her into the garden.
We walk beside the pond
and talk of better days...
her gown blowing like dragonfly wings
that sing with the tinkle of wind chimes...
But even as we speak,
I know her visit is brief-
her beauty fleeting,
her gifts only temporary.
Thirty days from now,
April will board that train again
and travel down that track of time...
Then May will arrive-
and step out in all
Posted by Rae Frazier