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.