The April Poem

The gentle prodding of Nancy finally got to me. This morning I finally wrote my April poem. My goal has been to write a poem each month. This one, then, is called April. It begins with a line from a poem by Richard Jackson, called Villanelle of the Crows. It feels a bit forced, this April poem, but it's all I've got just now.

April

The heart sometimes panics, stumbling to fly off with the crows,
but the crows will have none of it. They don't care
about my sadly dazzled ticker.

They hasten to treetops, fringing the view with slashes of black,
brooding nervously like disdainful mourners
at a stranger's wake.

Featherless one, they call, groundling, gawker! They cringe
and bob and preen and caw. They know nothing
of the hopeful heart,

which quickly regains its awkward balance, steps back
for a running start, spreads sudden wings
and leaps into startled flight.