Memos from the Month of April By Claire Hellar

Spring came in strokes of hyacinths,

garden reports of tillers and flowers,

memos from the month of April.

Rain swept through all the broken hearts

and patched them up with warm light

in early morning fogs,

with lattice-worked windows and

thrushes for free.

O, for earl grey mornings and evenings

molassessed to a caterpillar crawl,

perfect for wood walks after the din

of everything has dimmed the soul

(nine-to-five was never meant for us, beloved).

Apricots and artichokes put an advertisement in the paper

to announce themselves in season

and beets peep shyly above the ground.

Equinox is past and the farmers

start checking the almanac.

Perhaps it’s time for us to lay aside

the precision of mathematics and grow as plants do,

steadily and with the intention to open

and close in tune and time with sun and sunder.

Solstice is coming and cherry blossoms explode

on branches in horizontal hailstorms of petals.

I am glad for spring.

Every year it comes.

Claire Hellar is a missionary kid who grew up in Papua New Guinea and, after living in the West and Midwest U.S., now lives with her husband in Birmingham, Alabama. She is a UCLA grad and loves Tolstoy, Taylor Swift, mountain hikes, peonies, and the concept of bright sorrow.