Another April?

by A.M. Dunne, Ireland

We slash and hack and burn,
hedges wasted, trees slaughtered,
wildlife afflicted.
And yet 
	another April.
Buds form,
soft as skin.
Leaves burst out
shining, perfect;
a heartbreaking green.

Bird song rinses the air,
drenches the senses.
Primroses pop up.
There, the heart-soaring 
sound of the cuckoo.

April returns
with the heart-stopping 
sight of the swallows.	
And yet,
         how many more?

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