National Poetry Month

By Shari Randall

Spring arrives slowly in New England, with frustrating fits and starts. There are usually a few unnaturally warm days in March when the optimistic splash through the melting snow in shorts and t-shirts. April’s saturated sunlight has me wondering if it’s time to put away the wool sweaters and bring out the cotton sweaters, pack away the grays and navy blues and bring out the pink and yellow. I've been fooled before.

Then Nature reminds us who’s in charge and it snows.

Still, the blue crocus push up through the dark earth and the forsythia isn’t far behind.

The forsythia always brings to mind these lines of poetry from

William Wordsworth’s “Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”:

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.

Does the change in season bring to mind any favorite poetry? April is National Poetry Month. Feel free to share a bit of your favorite poem in the comments. Happy spring!