As Cruel as April
Grey Winter growls, Spring dreams of green
when flowers grow, and love birds preen.
Soon rabbits wake, the vixen prowls
then runs and hides, afraid she’s seen
the fearful beast, who’d foul with howls
spring dreams of green–grey Winter growls.
Now what comes next, before green spring
when sparrows fly, and robins sing?
Do wolves bare fangs? Do bears get vexed
by hopes or dreams, by what spring brings,
and seek with blood, destroy, annex
before green spring? Now what comes next?
Before spring comes, the bullets fly.
The people grieve, the winds just sigh
as they drift by soldiers and drums.
Power? Money? Who knows why
the bloodlust soars. The moon just hums–
the bullets fly, before spring comes.
For dVerse, a made-up form called the Sparrowlet. You can read about it here. The name of the form made me think of spring, and I wrote the first stanza yesterday. Then when I heard the news today, I wrote the last stanza. So then, I wrote the middle stanza to connect them. We are living in a very scary time, and so much disinformation is being spread constantly.