April Snowfall

I am going to continue using the same blog address, but not commit myself to entering a new post every day, just enter those poems that feel right without pressure.  

Thus, Part Two.

April Snowfall

It takes a late April snowfall

to remind us we are still

in Idaho and not Guatemala

or on the island of Bali, leaning

back in a lawn chair to watch

a lady in her conical hat glean

debris at the edge of the grass

and a man balancing a pole

over his shoulders with two bags

of detritus gathered from the sea.

Yes it takes late April snow

to remind us we don’t even live

on a prairie where Emily says

all you need is a clover, one bee,

and misspelled revery.  

By afternoon snow will be gone.

Bees in the pear tree will resume

their annual pilgrimage of pollination. 

Wind will be sufficient to confirm

we are still in Idaho long after the bees

are silent and Spring turns to June. 

The man with two bags will fade

into reverie spelled right,

as I bend my own back

to rake detritus cottonwoods

bestrew across the lawn.

                              —Donnell Hunter

                                        27 April 2012