|"Two crocuses in snow", photograph by Thomas Wolf|
Poem in April
Still, sober heart that kept me whole in youth,
be sober now, and guarded, and beware
those whispers in the wind that hush the truth.
Blossoms in their green mail, flags in the air,
crocuses in bright helmets through the snow,
all say believe, believe — but let them go:
this war is not for winning, not for you.
Better be still and guarded and not care
more for this budding branch than for the bare.
The hand that drew it bare composed this too,
and signed his work — this cheek, this frosty head.
Heart, you are not renewable; be wise.
Memory and desire, the poet said:
be sober, heart, the wind is full of lies.
by Rhina P. Espaillat (from Her Place in These Designs, Truman State University Press, 2008), reprinted by express permission of Ms. Espaillat