Michael H. Levin: Poems and Prose
APRIL AGAIN . . .
. . . blossoms brushed from bent limbs
in my hair, tangled with sweat
and pollen; the heat of first mowing.
Air tender and urgent
as moments we shared
on a night-lit stone porch along
turned Oxford meadows, when April
was dawn in Eden, first and new.
House wrens burble their down-song,
screened by poplars. Overhead, a
cardinal, flush with attitude,
follows my back and forth
curiously, scanning for seeds.
2017 Bethesda Urban Partnership/Arts & Entertainment District Poetry Contest; published at www.bethesda.org