Thirty poems in thirty days? It’s one of the traditional April challenges, given that here in America, it’s national poetry month.  I’ve been out of the poetry-writing game for a long time, but I figured, it’s time to play.  I don’t guarantee a complete poem every day, but I intend to try.

Welcome, April, with your typical flair,
frigid dawns and atypical thunder.
Broad clouds scudding like clipper ships in air
mounted in the west like Witchcraft’s blunder,
then jibed and tacked until they ruled the East.
Then Boom! came lightning, and royal fanfare blared,
heralding the arrival of the Beast —
the Ram his half-course run. What can be dared
in this pilgrim season?  Men seek strange strands,
and far hallows, filling buckets like fools —
temples and monuments in sundry lands,
mountaintops wreathed in mist and holy pools:
When more days pass, another course they’ll steer,
and all will be bullish on the sow’s ear.

I had hoped to use this poem to work with some of the tropes about April, and commemorate the first thunderstorm of the season, which rolled over the school in due and ancient form right near the end of my last-period class today.

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