On the Last Day of April

I wanted to say something insensible
about a dead end, how it looks
like a maypole but can’t be danced
around. So many things can’t be
avoided now, as the earth warms
or doesn’t. I wanted to say
farewell to cold, the rain that finds
rivulets in your bone. But I only know
that some things stop and others
continue, and I can’t help you
make any more sense of it than that.

 

Prompts: Poetic Asides (dead end) and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (maypole). And with that, another National Poetry Month comes to an end.

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