APRIL’S COLD

The Heavens cried ceaselessly and bled

Drenching the windows panes in fumes

As cold clutched its fist

On my clattering ribs

The first pond visit of Heaven’s wet blessings

Bathed all hidden chronicles

Of a dry ground

In the late hours of April

In the willow of a cold embrace

I fondle and clutch my spread

Seeking all warm crevices

To stave  the reaching claws

of another cold night

I am myself abandoned

To the quest of seeking warmth

All else a waiting matter

As the beginning of a long haul Enters.