One More Before Poetry Month Ends

An April Day

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
   (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Violets have always been my favorite early spring flower. They grew in the ditches and yard as well as the woods. I rarely make it to the woods anymore, but I still try to bring in a little bouquet from the yard.

Always have done.