I did some poetry in April as a challenge -- to write a poem every day. It was a dismal failure. But it was a creative act. Here's one of them:
Morning in April
The dawn glows
the trees rock
the blossoms fly through the air on the season's clock.
Birds couple
nesting here
I hear them in my trees and know summer is near.
The wind blows
air is cold.
Would it seem more like Spring if I were not so old?
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