April is an ambiguous month.
Its dizzy variability leaves one uncertain
As to what to do, to wear, with whom to associate,
Whether to snub your neighbors
Or invite them in for a drink,
Whether to maintain one’s wintry obnoxiousness,
Or be smilingly spring-friendly.
Generally I stay away from them.
My only companion that dog
With whom I go walking.
When I’m stumbling along
Those empty paths in the park
I notice that the trees still look lonesome.
It’s this time of year that does it.
Do you know what I mean by a lonesome tree?
When they drop leaves they are actually saying,
Don’t come too close. Do not attempt
To grow in my shadow. I would much rather
maintain my independence, particularly now,
while it is still quite cold, and I would prefer
To be somewhere else, where there are birds, and it’s warmer.
Well, that’s their ambiguity, a holding breath time,
Bare branches, an anticipation of budding
But I note, anyway, that the grass around them
Is in pretty good condition,
That there are little blue flags
Set out in intervals, probably indicating
That it has just been fertilized.
Yesterday I read
That one third of those who commit suicide
Do so with pesticides.
I guess that’s a kind of warning
To keep your dog,
If you have one,
On the roadway.