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;