April, again. (D30 #NaPoWriMo FINAL DAY)


April, callous cold, bound
By seasons cadence,
Not cruel, but cold,
No warm embrace,
In sun that shuddered
Seed and spore awake,
And shattered dreams
Dark stump, with phantom hope.

The Old Man lay
Swaddled in grass,
Sheathed in pollen,
Enveloped by plants
A garden of his cold
Lifeless corpse,
Blowflies, worms
And beetles’ bounty.

The Young man slick with sweat
Birthed in springtime sun,
Lay shivering under Ancient Elder,
One hand held an Elder Switch
The other an hourglass
12 notches, set at 4.
Leaves filtered through
The waist, and fell to mulch,
His feet reeked of mould
And rank decay.

© Greg Richards
Day 30, Final Day, themed to write a poem about something that happens again and again, and a little fun with a no doubt familiar theme of April … and of course Il migliore Fabbro ^^

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