April 2024

 

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

I think it's time for me to read "The Wasteland" again, a couple of decades since the last visit, though I half-dread how potently it will land now that I'm middle-aged. 

April was the last full month before Mildred's marriage and move to North Carolina. The puppies were curious and cute, and they destroyed the flowerbeds. The seedlings were green hope, because we didn't yet know we'd knock them over too many times for survival. Mallory grew and grew, and with her round, little newness, she unknowingly tethered us to the present. Birthdays (five!) and wedding preparations filled the month, which inexorably tramped along, another impossible countdown with joy and sorrow mingling.