Saturday, April 16, 2011

Cold Rain In April

A weeping, cold rain in April.
Wind like March.
A nest,
not of soft grass and animal hair,
but of blankets.

In that nest,
under wet windows,
the weight of things that can no longer be born
are imagined to be lifted.

Ideas of new life
and new ways
of navigating uncertainty fall,
 drop by drop,
into a heart still holding its breath.

Breathe with certainty. 

Courage will come, 
weights will lift.

The rain and the wind
will give way to flight
in the perfumed skies of May.


  1. That rain rained on me, too. May the eggs be well. . . .

  2. such a beautiful Spring poem, thank you.

  3. Yes, with all my heart, I am hoping that will be true. Hugs to you.


I always appreciate the time you take to comment on my blog. Thank you for stopping by. Peace from my heart to yours. xo, Graciel