April is indeed the cruelest month: first taxes, and now a
that suggests nothing so much as, "Psst, it's really
time to get to that spring cleaning. And switch out your winter wardrobe for
your summer. And your filing cabinet's a joke." If, like me, you're in
need of a Cure
but don't especially feel like taking your medicine, let W.D.
The green catalpa tree has turned
All white; the cherry blooms once more.
In one whole year I haven't learned
A blessed thing they pay you for.
The blossoms snow down in my hair;
The trees and I will soon be bare.
poem from The Academy of American Poets site
photo credit: eR