Wednesday, April 1, 2009

APRIL'S FOOL

I am an April fool… Mired in March’s mud I look up—and there she comes sashaying down Spring’s new path, green skirt swinging, merry with laughter and promising a thousand delights. My heart leaps! Lovely April—soft and eager, with tresses of sunshine gold, cheeks glowing rose-pink, her eyes bluebell bright. Honey scents her warm breath, and the sweetness of violets cloaks as she sways along. I simply can’t help myself— just like always, I fall again, head-over-heels in love. Perhaps, as scoffers claim, there is no fool like an old fool, though why should we listen to those who remain in winter? I say consider this instead— hearts and buds now open freely, blooming in vernal magic. What better season for falling in love than Spring, where beauty begins with time ahead to grow? April appears, the land renews; covenant follows planted seed as heady promise fills the air. The rhythm of the season makes is own music—from singing birds to beating hearts. As for me…didn’t I tell you? I am April’s fool.

22 comments:

Rowan said...

Me too Scribe - and what a wonderful, lyrical description of April, I see her now coming down the path towards me.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Rowan…

April has certainly found her way to the river this morning. The sun is shining, catching in bright-gold highlights on the water. Birdsong pours from evergreen hedges and streamside thickets. The sweet scent of spring fills the air.

I have some desk work to do—but soon as I can, I want to get outside and revel in in the season. Thank you for writing.

The Weaver of Grass said...

What a lovely poem Scribe - I too an am April's fool I always recite Browning's Home Thought from Abroad onthe first of April - it never fails to send a shiver down my spine. I wonder, when he wrote it, if he had any idea how thrilling a poem it would become to those who long for the Spring.
Do you know Tennyson's Loxley Hall?
It starts "In the Spring a young man's fancy, Lightly turns to thoughts of love" Or, as my father always used to say:
In the Spring a young man's fancy, lightly turns to things he has been thinking about all winter!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Weaver…

Frankly, I don't see how anyone who loves nature, the out-of-doors, the countryside, or a small backyard garden could (or would want to) avoid being besotted by spring. I wouldn't trade April and May for a dozen Junes, Julys, and Augusts.

And just let me say…your father was a wise, wise man!

Val said...

This poem gave me joy.

: )

Gail said...

Lovely sentiments, lovely photo. Ah, April - such promise in April - all captured in your poem. Our humming bird feeder is filled and waiting, our winter's wood pile is re-stacked, neatly, and set aside to lay formant. The butterfly bush is trimmed back and the brook is babbling loudly - in perfect pitch.

And by the way Griz - I suggested, over on Val's blog, your cottage for us all to meet one day - hope you don't mind!!! :-) heehee

Love Gail
peace....

P.S My verification word to comment is "Booty". wow, that is my Dad's nic-name from when he was a young boy. Apparently he always wore boots - so be the name. I got a warm feeling when I saw it - he was a great man.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Val…

April's arrival gives me joy; I had fun trying to whittle something from my idea, given my shaky (at best!) poetic talents; and to provide you with joy…well, I don't see how I could aspire to more on this April Fool's Day. And that's no joke!

Lynne said...

April is laughing her fool head off at me today as the snow comes down...

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Gail…

I'm glad you liked the poem and especially the photo. I just thought these two cuddly finches were cute, one of those warm-and-fuzzy Hallmark shots.

You know, I was hoping we'd all invade some corner of North Carolina or maybe the Lake Superior country. If this notion ever actually takes root, though, I'm pretty amenable to wherever .

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Lynne…

Hey, I've been laughed at by April a few times myself. But I'm not going to make any chauvinistic remarks about how females tend toward the fickle, mercurial, capricious, unpredictable, and…nope, not going to say anything!

JMS said...

Lovely poem! The kissy birds are sweet.

I just bought a green skirt - I just might sashay in it!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

JMS…

Now is definitely the time to don that green skirt and sashay!

Glad you liked the birds and poem.

KGMom said...

I gather you don't hold with T. S. Eliot's assessment--April is the cruelest month of all?
But then, Eliot was always a bit of a snob, eschewing what the rest of us mere mortals enjoy.
-----
In an aside--a curiosity question?
Why do you have word verification on AND comment moderation? Seems a bit of overkill. I don't know if you have been hit by comment spam, but one or the other will deter that.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

KGMom…

Nope. Eliot and I part ways when it comes to April. I stand with Jesse Stuart in "Hold April."

Egads! Didn't realize I had both word verification and comment moderation turned on. Sorry. I will attempt to rectify forthwith. On other blogs it often takes me two or three tries to get word verification right. Has my blog always been this way?

Raph G. Neckmann said...

I am April's fool too, Grizzled! Beautiful poem. 'Heady promise fills the air'- I love that. There is a feeling of revelry in the air.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Raph…

I knew you'd be an April fool. :-) Still looking for those griaffodils, though.

Thank you for your nice comments.

giggles said...

You're no fool!! You can't fool me! (Ah, but a lovely wordsmith, a romatic swooner? check. No worries, I won't tell a soul!)

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Giggles…

Oh-ho! I could tell you stories galore to illustrate with no uncertainty my absolute fool proficiency. It is, I assure you, long-standing, wide-ranging, and could, on any number of occasions, have culminated with my sudden and ignominious demise. There were innumerable instances where my probable I.Q. would have been deemed just below that of a rutabaga.

As to that "romantic swooner" bit—hahahahahaha…you thought I'd forget this is April Fools Day, right?

Bella said...

Lovely poem...

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bella…

Thank you.

KGMom said...

Grizzled--Yes, your blog has thus been, at least since I began visiting. Almost chased me away--I tend not to want to have to jump through too many hoops just to comment. Would rather a face-to-face, of course, than this asynchronous communication, but this is the way of the blogging world.

I cannot forsake Eliot, or part ways with him--his play Murder in the Cathedral was the subject of my master's thesis! But, I confess, I do find Eliot's poetry needlessly dense at times.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

KGMom…

Well, I do hope I've fixed the problem. I really appreciate you telling me about it—I had no idea. Thank you.

And I too would rather just converse in real time, and in person¬but when in blogland, one must follow the rules and precepts of the blogging kingdom.