The morning chorus of birdsong greets me under a gray-cloaked sky.We sip coffee on the back porch in sweatshirts, hoods pulled tight around our faces as the first tentative raindrops scamper across the yard, blipping onto the peeling paint,spreading out into Rorschach blobs that test our springtime fortitude. I wrote this poem for this week’sContinue reading “April Buds”
