April’s not so bad (a poem)

Bonus round—because I have heard three or four references to ‘April is the cruellest month’ in the last 22 hours. Not being familiar with the work of T. S. Eliot (even though I of course know the name), I had to look it up to find out where it came from. That’s really beside the point, though, since it was the cluster of references that I am responding to. Here is my poem:

All this talk of April being the cruellest month
I’ve heard it three times since yesterday
and I don’t know…

I’m inclined to disagree
I’m inclined to see spring and sunlight
I’m inclined to feel the first warmth since winter
on my skin

It is about now that my crushed sense of optimism
begins to reassert itself in the form of good days
and jazz on the radio as I travel along I-5

I’m inclined to roll down the windows and enjoy the breeze
I’m inclined to sing along with Paul Weller’s mangled French on ‘The Paris Match’
I’m inclined to look forward to something
for the first time in months

The April sun may flag around noon
but both of us will rally ’round soon
and open up under the sun

I’m inclined to let it come in
I’m inclined to think about love again
I’m inclined to stick around for whatever’s next
whatever it may be

Isn’t that what April is really about?

 

(20 April 2018)