A Sonnet for the Last Wednesday in April

The 'October' of spring

With every season, I grieve the one left behind. The same with spring. I’m not quite ready to give up the cozy nights snuggled up with a fleece blanket and candles lit on the long nights. I want the beauty of one more snow-blanketed white world. I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to be out and about on long days in the sun. But then the buds, vibrant greens, blossoming trees, rich floral smells, and lush green grass return, and I love this season just as much as all the rest.

This seasonal grief is what inspired this spring sonnet:

Invitation

I did not want spring; I preferred cold’s rest,

Unwilling to leave winter’s rooted nest.

But ready or not, time commands all;

I watched the ground rise, as the world grew small

Blue mustard and spruce needles reached out wide

From floor and roof, growth from every side.

Flax flowers stood suddenly on tiptoe,

Young leaves in bright greens opened up the show.

Sunlight stretched days-tall in the newborn world.

At equinox, willow ribbons unfurled,

Cherry blossom confetti soon blasted,

Life began, whether or not I requested.

As growing season beckoned and danced,

Once again, by spring, I was romanced.

Every year in October, I see the quote (from Anne of Green Gables), “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” And while I wholeheartedly agree, I am so glad to live in a world where there are Aprils, too.

There’s something magical about the transitional periods of April and October. We are surrounded by such massive natural, cyclical change, and we can’t help but be in awe, be inspired, be changed, too.