April is National Poetry Month

Scattering Hope

A poem for springtime

Photo by Chloe Ridgway on Unsplash

the sweet small clumsy feet of April came //

into the ragged meadow of my soul

— E.E. Cummings, Is 5 (1926)

She scatters handfuls
of assorted wildflower seeds
over the just-now-sprouting
meadow grass,
thankfully not tall enough yet
to choke out her intent
right from the start.

Last year (and the year
or two before that)
she tried her luck
at growing the easiest
of easy flowers to grow —
sunflowers from seeds.
To no avail.

What is it about springtime
that always makes her think
things will be different
this time around?
Because
they rarely truly
ever are.