On a day dressed up as April, with rivers on the rise,
I went into the woods to see what spring had on her mind.
Trees and trees and trees and trees in celadon and gray,
Exposed their flanks, troops all unready, armies out of line.
The water filled its space and more: above its rocky bed
The shining spread approached my feet and rippled in the grass.
Like fingers of a hand that dangled, languid in the flood,
An overhanging branch dipped twigs into the moving mass.
Prima donna dogwoods, searching for the sun,
Stretched their arms into the sky toward the spotlight glare;
They threw some blossoms at the blue; like frozen fireworks there,
Like words of a Madonna-made-of-marble's stony prayer.
Next time I go into the woods the flowers will be gone,
Decent gowns of darker green will cover all the trees.
The river, in decorum, flowing in its proper place,
And April just a memory for the forest and for me.
On a Day Dressed Up as April by Judy Schilling