A Mustard Field in April

A yellow frock of mustard rises

Like a blanket over miles of fields.

A spring day afternoon:

It's early April and

The mustard all in bloom.

A blackbird flutters here and there

As if born anew within the rise,

Like spots of anti-light

Among the bright-

Ness of her flowered plain.

And wow! The scarlet on her wings!

That hue of glory fire in flight

Upon the wires as if to please me.

And all displayed she sings

A short but soothing song

Of a pasture in April somewhere.

How soon the trees will have their leaves,

Now auburn in their just pre bloom.

I feel as if they must explode

Behind the fence along this road,

With golden poppy, purple lupine,

buck wheat grass

Bursting out in springtime fire,

Like these orange stalks, the swaying blades.

It's time for me to go, I know.

Perhaps again another year,

I'll make it back a day in April.