On a Bleak, Snowy Day in April

A poem.

I stopped to wonder
at the hazy grey
that had consumed 
the day. That had 
consumed me.

Maybe the flakes
were meant to cleanse
the earth in preparation
for spring.

Perhaps they were meant
to cleanse me.

But this grotty year 
has done enough deterging
of its own to last a million
more.

A million evergreens
line mountain peaks and glare
down at me, reminding me 
there is beauty in the world.

But I don’t want to hear about beauty
on a bleak, snowy day in April.

Previously published in The POM