Oh, April…

Oh, April…

 

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

∼  excerpt, TS Eliot, The Wasteland

 

The lilacs outside my door are poised: soon they will blossom forth, but not yet, oh, not yet.

And this is how I feel, my imaginary friend – not here, not there, not yet. Memory and desire swirl around me, bringing up new budding tendrils each day; around me a vast sea of the barely-glimpsed colours of unopened flowers, while a lowering grey sky hems me in, viscerally. April’s refrain: not yet, not yet, not yet.

 

april rain 2

7 comments on “Oh, April…

  1. Anonymous says:

    You have a way of bringing life and color to your words. Beautifully felt and written!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Bela Johnson says:

    I get the hemmed in viscerally, for sure. I thought in coming here I would enjoy the novelty of grey skies once again. A couple of days later, I was over it! 😂 And thankfully I only had to wait four days from my arrival for the sun to crack through. Though that is not entirely true, the gray would hang in all day only to have the sunshine peek through the clouds toward evening, when it hadn’t had time to warm the ground. It was nice to see it make an appearance. And the hummingbirds were oout in droves, which made it all worthwhile. We don’t have hummingbirds in Hawaii, and I do miss the little buggers. Now it is bright and sunny and it does take the chill out of the bones, though I have been active ever since I have landed back in this Pacific Northwest. So lovely these islands, but I don’t think I could live here. Lucky me though, I get to visit when I want to. Love your words … always. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Brent says:

    Nice poetry: yours and TS Eliot’s. Your springtime buds recall images of shy, would-be lovers daring not to speak nor touch for fear of being rejected… not yet, not yet…

    Liked by 1 person

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