MERCURIAL APRIL

April's sky is weeping;
Clouds are wringing her tears;
River and lakes drink her sorrows
As they have done for thousands of years.
Birds winging take shelter,
Make umbrellas of trees,
Awaiting brighter, glad hours
Promised by a soothing warm breeze.
April's oft fickle moods
Change like a child at play
As her sky turns from grey to blue
While blossoming into new May.