the april of my mind the one entwined
with early violets
the cold and greening winds.
send some other messenger in my stead
perhaps she said
if words were spoken at all.at the end.
I will recall the early buds
the chirping rivulets of the silver sounding birds
the fragrant and the wistful air
oh how absurd to the modern poets
all she is:
small flowers every where
standing alone on a hill
pale lilacs in her hair.
mary angela douglas 23 january 2017