All right, all right. I have to make a confession: I’m terrible at following rules I instituted. Like when I inaugurated Free Poem Friday last Thursday night. (In my defense, I really and truly thought that was Friday night. Sometimes work melts my basic brain functions.) And today, I’m sharing a poem I’ve known for years and years, because I simply have my doubts that anything might possibly be as perfect for today.
Sara Teasdale’s “April” is about a world where winter might be receding, but springtime still feels elusive. And since the world outside my windowpane is newly (re-)dusted with snow from a slightly unseasonable storm*, I can relate.
*But not that unseasonable. Did you know that the only month they’ve never recorded snow in Wisconsin is August? I’m betting the stats are similar here in Minnesota.
Even when we’re not facing an encore performance from Old Man Winter, I think it’s possible to understand the poem as waiting for a new beginning that’s taking its sweet time about coming. When you want things to change, waiting to see the results of those changes can take forever. Sometimes you have only that interior knowledge that things are no longer the same as they were.
So, without further ado, Sara Teasdale. Happy spring, and may you have daffy-down-dillies and green grass soon!
“April” – Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree–
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.