April is National Poetry Month!

Season of Doubt

And the rain tastes of dirt and metal
from a sky unsure of its mood
falling in small fists; this infant thing
promises, promises
tomorrow will be better, will be green!
but who do we trust? Cries the sky
I will not take you back.

Set free before you had the chance
to decline freedom
in a kaleidoscope of days
unencumbered promises
bruised on tender lips
but who do we trust? Cries the sky
I will not take you back.

A fist unfurls to reveal
saplings in a bird’s nest
baby’s tender heard melts black
like asphalt in June
but too soon we cry and again the same question–
who do we trust?
I will not take you back.

copyright2017caceresbg

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