All Fool's Day
Oh no, this can't be snow
It's almost April, almost Easter
And Spring's skirt began to show
Perhaps it's feathers from the pillow
Of frolicking angels
Winter's breath in exit below
Or
Old-timers anticipating Opening Day.
Hurling curving comets low,
Fiery tials down-spinning slow.
Whatever this woe
It dissolves by next day's warn light
Sending flooding water to seep below,
A drunkenness for Spring's flowers
Winter's foolishness bestow.
Ah, but we are all fools
Not to know...
If it's HIS will, then it's snow.
by Robert J. Savino
