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Entrance of a Changeable Entity

Like sad-sweet cooing of a mourning dove,
soft wind gently sighing through the trees,
balmy change from March's, raucous winds above.
Can it be April tiptoed in, a springtime tease?

Nostalgic dreaminess to blazing sun,
only to dissolve in mists again.
April brings her fickle greeting, flighty one,
bombastic thunderstorm to nesting wren.

Foolishness of nature now confounds the wise,
as in the sadness of Good Friday Jesus died.
So the understated drama thrills our eyes,
new life on Easter, resurrection realized.

In the gray and dripping dawn, she makes the scene,
tomorrow, skipping lambs and chirping bird.
Gray-dry stalks of last fall's grass replaced by green,
and in the freshening marsh, the frogs' song heard.

The pussy willow and hepatica bud forth;
light breezes blow white clouds in skies above.
Daffodills and tulips laugh at winds of north,
bright colors offset gray brown of the mourning dove.

03/31/2013 Carol Welch

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