April Blues
by E.D Kain
it’s something about the pollen
maybe, yellow
infinitesimal dust in her hair,
or maybe the indecision
of the sun
(the skies gray one day,
clear the next)
that brings this blue
to her brown eyes,
this shade to our
green lawn,
this parade of ghosts
to each star spattered midnight;
each dewswept dawn.
(not to flood this blog with poetry, but I’ve been through a long dry spell and now two poems in a week!)
