|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||5|
|Earth in forgetful snow, feeding|
|A little life with dried tubers.|
Piles of dirty snow long turned to ice, still hunker at the edges of parking lots. The wind and the rain are chilly, the sky sometimes turns sunny but mostly is gray. It's a month to endure this year. In the past it has been a month of promise and early flowers. April is poety month and I have read some very fine poetry. A ver nice thing indeed. I am not reading the remainder of TheWasteland, I need a warm and sunny day to counter the tone of it.