In April, when the world is splendored,
when trees and flowers bloom unhindered-
for the danger of frost, has finally past,
and little violets abide with grass-
I vow , my time I will not squander . . .
And April is the time to wander.
I think to traipse, the whole world over,
with hope to find a patch of clover,
or to look for a wild and fragrant vine,
or to spy a redbird in a pine,
implores the heart, to pause and pray,
for the beauty of an April day.
Hence, I promise, not to waste.
a moment in April with rushing and haste.
Instead, I’ll stroll by field and wood,
and see April declare that God is good.
Today, outside the window, just floating in the air.
I saw a “flock of dainty wings” , and went to see them there.
I thought to write a poem about pink butterflies-
but when I went to take a look, I got a sweet surprise.
For it was a “flock of petals” flying in the breeze,
that surely came unfastened, from a grove of cherry trees!
The air got still and all the petals rained upon the grass.
Where they fell, I saw some violets, I may otherwise, have passed.
I will not rush in springtime, when the days are mild and fair-
For violets bloom in springtime, and “petals fill the air”.