How to Step into Spring: NaPoWriMo

Monday Morning Musings:

“Let the rain kiss you.

Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.

Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

–from Langston Hughes, “April Rain Song”


Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

—John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn


She sings from an ache,

raw winds blow, shake

the bare-branched trees,

and the seas weep

till they are silenced by ice–

but on her daughter’s return

the snow melts,

and the sun burns

brightly, birds flitter and coo

and flowers wake with smiles

–and you?

You, smile, too–because

too soon we bid Spring adieu.


In the last days of March,

we walk through woods

find shadows and light

breathe air fresh and bright,

with a hint of chill–still

then comes the rain–again

In the last days of March

birds twitter and tweet

at the mornings sweet

with promise of days fair

then the air turns again

and we learn that spring

is here. . . then there


In the last days of March,

we walk down city streets

see a show

and have our treats

of wine, beer, cheese

(yes, a bit more please)

and come home at night

to find daffodils have bloomed

shining golden beacons of light


In the last days of March,

we make candles

sitting in a room full of scent

invent clever names–

imagine a small burning flame

bringing light,

a small delight,

and we drink wine and talk

then walk

and talk some more


of stories and poetry

Langston Hughes, Keats,

Shelley, and Persephone, too.

We talk of teachers we knew

of stories completed in dreams

of how the world seems

sometimes horrid, and

sometimes reborn,

fresh and new.

On the last day of March

it rains—



we gather to eat—

bagels and cream cheese

my mother is pleased

to be out and about in another place,

but it’s a dog who steals the show—

of course, you know

how it is, and so,

we talk about this and that


then we go home to feed our cats. . .


and wake upon a cold April first

(isn’t that the worst?)

Well, I suppose it could be snow,

and so. . .we go forward to the spring

(let the rain kiss you)

and that’s how it’s done, we bring

our past to the future

spring forward, looking back,

we stop, step lightly—


here, this moment of

yellow flowers, pink blooms

and birdsong–

now, spring looms

and I pause

to listen

to its tune.


Today is the first day of April, and the first day of National/Global Poetry Writing Month! Today’s prompt is “how to do something.” I’ve played on it a bit for today’s Monday Morning Musings.

My younger daughter and I went to Wax and Wine in Philadelphia. (It was her belated birthday present.)  And because we’re both nerds, we were actually discussing writing and poetry while drinking wine and eating gorgonzola-fig bruschetta at Vintage Wine Bar.





















51 thoughts on “How to Step into Spring: NaPoWriMo

  1. Oh, I would love to eavesdrop on your nerdy conversations! This poem had me skipping along in my heart. Although it’s not as cold here in north FL as elsewhere in the state, it’s a dreary day. Your poem made me smile and reminded me that soon enough I’ll be complaining about the heat 😉

  2. “how the world seems

    sometimes horrid, and

    sometimes reborn,

    fresh and new.”

    Isn’t it so? I love reading this, Merril! Lucky you to have a daughter who likes to talk poetry. 😊

  3. Love, love, love the opening to this. It just feels so much like the on-again, off-again spring. I’ve always been fascinated with the story of Persephone.
    It sounds like another lovely weekend of family, food, and good conversations.

  4. A wonderful Monday post! Here the sun shone brightly, fooling us into believing it was not merely 27°F out there! Oh yes, it went *all* the way up to 35°F…
    Still, even with all the snow and a cold dat here and there, we feel it coming…

    • Thank you so much, Shuku Li! I was wondering if you be around. It’s hard to keep up with everyone and all the prompts! Sorry to hear about health issues, but I hope the writing problems are good ones.
      I’ll go over to your site now. 🙂

  5. ❤ We have more chairs in the common area downstairs than tomcats, but the tomcats are mobile, and the chairs…are less so, which means, success! They have not tomcatted!

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