The cruelest month?

T.S. Eliot wrote that April is the cruelest month. I have had years when I thought that to be the case.

It is also April Fools Day. I have never found a good history/explanation of why this is Fool's Day. I have some inklings but I won't go into that here.

It is also National Poetry Month. I have been mulling over the idea of posting a poem a day for the month. A daunting task and one I don't think I'm quite ready to take on. However, I may post some poetry during the month. Perhaps, I'll even throw in a couple of my own poems. Mr. R suggested that I write poems at rest stops during our road trip to California. You know, something like "ode to mile marker 285".

I know that somewhere in a box in my house - probably in The Room (kind of like our attic where things have been put for so long I'm not quite sure what is in there any more) - Anyway, in a box somewhere is the first poem I wrote. I think I was 6 or 7 years old. I think I still have the very kind rejection letter that the editor of a local paper sent to me after a friend of my mom's sent the poem to him for potential publication. I'll look for them and if I find them I'll put them up on this here blog.

So whatever you think of April, and whether or not you choose to be foolish today, or read poems all month - hmmm, that thought went no where. I think I'll just look at the fluffy white clouds and the blue spring sky.