FO-70.

My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp
air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler
breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their
Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we
could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden.

FO-69.

In my old home
which I forsook, the cherries
are in bloom.

FO-68.

Late April and you are three; today
We dug your garden in the yard.
To curb the damage of your play,
Strange dogs at night and the moles tunneling,
Four slender sticks of lath stand guard
Uplifting their thin string.
So you were the first to tramp it down.
And after the earth was sifted close
You brought your watering can to drown
All earth and us. But these mixed seeds are pressed
With light loam in their steadfast rows.
Child, weve done our best.

FO-67.

Break open
A cherry tree
And there are no flowers;
But the spring breeze
Brings forth myriad blossoms.

FO-66.

When April scatters charms of primrose gold
Among the copper leaves in thickets old,
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;
When I can hear the small woodpecker ring
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing;
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long --
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song.