poetry, writer, writing

Snow in April

Sometimes we get snow in April.

It’s inevitable like skin burnt by sunshine,

broken hearts, and failed exams.

The day still carries the blooms of spring

And the hope of new growth after the

winter of our soul.

The frigid pane of a window gives it away.

Our winter has yet to end.

Sometimes we get snow in April.

It’s inevitable like blisters from shoes,

uncomfortable silences, and paths not taken.

The air still carries the pollen

And the flowers and joy to come after

the last stand of frost.

The emerged animals scurry in confusion.

Our spring has yet to begin.

Sometimes we get snow in April.

It’s inevitable, and then we move on.

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