April sings us to sleep with her raindrop accompaniment. All is blustery and wild outside while we dream of abundant fields. April laughs at our wistful reverie. She wonders how we could possibly think one day can serve her. One day of remembrance is a mockery. April is budding beauty kept evergreen in poetry and postcards. A puddle, a pool, a landslide, a flood. Soon these tools April uses to subdue us will be lost. The wind will finish the work April begins. Earth receives its tribute as we toss and turn in restless slumber.
Rlargusa: He lived louder than love.
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