APRIL AGAIN



blossoms brushed from bent limbs

in my hair, tangled with sweat

and pollen; the heat of first mowing.


Air tender and urgent

as moments we shared

on a night-lit stone porch along

turned Oxford meadows, when April


was dawn in Eden, first and new.

House wrens burble their down-song,

screened by poplars.  Overhead, a

cardinal, flush with attitude,


follows my back and forth

curiously, scanning for seeds.





2017 Bethesda Urban Partnership/Arts & Entertainment District Poetry Contest; published at www.bethesda.org