an April moon

Swelled low, gliding in the east,  a glow
that swallows budding trees and spike-top spires
to redefine a man made forest adorned
by bare branched signs of spring.

I have seen you before but never
through the thoughts of this day
the seeds of doubt that fly full born
were not yet blossomed in that season last
you were the harbinger of a reluctant winter's end

I hear the same songs, and can clearly see
they too mean so much more, and time has this;
a way of showing the softened grip we have,
as we squeeze harder to hold each passing day

and you, golden chariot
of a high ride across night sky
of tomorrow you speak not, and it is well...
for you are enough, in beauty

to transform darkness into
fascination with a gem.