The softness of an April shower

Is touching at this early hour

When buds are showing in the green

And blossoms open to be seen

Briefly before the petals fall.

Every flower blooms to die

As every lark that meets the sky.

But withered fallen petals breed

The fruit, the hull, and then the seed

And every bird that closes throat

Has left the world a richer note

April is a soft rebirth

That makes a kneeling place of Earth.