Neil Perry
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

Ever since I read that I can't help thinking of it in April. I don't think I agree. Maybe April's cruel here-- any month can be, in the City-- but I don't think it's because the world's waking up. I like that about spring; it feels like everything's been bare and cold forever, I like when that comes to an end. It's not that winter isn't beautiful... It can be. The snow and ice, keeping everything covered and pristine... It's sort of sad, though. Maybe just for me. For us.

The poem's much longer, that's just the first little part of it. It's nice... It's strange, and sad I think, but I like it.

Maybe April will take a turn for the better.