The Eve of April, 2013

The first of April, a month of travels
a month full of poems, from start to finish,
the daily stacks up, the month unravels,
the pages and words shall not diminish.
To speak of the small things, to sing for you,
to show you the things that fill everyday.
The highway and trees and clouds in the blue
the breezes that make April’s flowers sway.
Where will we go then? Where haven’t we been?
Just to see each day with eyes new and clear
so to see each day what has been most seen
we will look and write what we find most dear.
Fear in the starting but joy to come home
the road ahead paved with thirty new poems.