Not--Spring

Hell is April snow

and winter coats that should have been retired a month ago

and hats and mittens and boots that should be

packed away by now for the summer.

Hell is 'should be' but not quite yet.

Hell is colorless gardens

devoid of spring flowers,

with frozen fountains, and disoriented birds,

torn between flying south again

or building nests,

baffled squirrels and my indecision:

what SHOULD I wear this morning?

Should I turn on the heat—

or open the windows?

Is spring dragging its feet around the corner,

or has it passed us by?

April is the cruelest month,

and hell is not-spring.