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April Skies
Down by the pomegranates
under April skies
she laid a charm upon me
with her honest eyes.
She told me wait for summer
and tame my blood a bit;
but my heart looked at patience
and would have none of it.
By the lake the clover
was proper green for June;
I ventured whisper in her ear
it would be summer soon.
She bade me listen reason
and teach my tongue be still,
then tripped across the clover patch
while I climbed up the hill.
WHITE
You are a snowflake on the wind,
a white dove fluttering down the sky,
a gossamer drifting through my mind,
a silver mote that swims my eye.
You are a spray of cherry bloom,
a porcelain vase with a master's sign;