My tradition is to write an eve of April poem so here it goes. Maureen over at NaPoWriMo headquarters suggested a play on Emily Dickinson so that was a nice launching prompt. So without further ado:
hope it’s a forever thing
that sprouts from sidewalk cracks
tougher than old macadam
it’s bird song that turns my head
so I notice the load of luck
left on my luckless shoulder.
at times hope springs from nothing
others she rides with death
a silent companion in grief
who turns our attention to
small gladnesses of spring
and deep quietude of night
hope takes our hand and whispers
see tomorrow? be strong enough.
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