April, come she will

Maybe it was the early Easter, or maybe the lousy weather the past few days, but April kind of snuck up on me. I had to scramble to get my Gameday audio subscription so I could listen to the Tigers yesterday. (They won't be selling beer in Comerica Park this year. They lost the opener.)

(Sorry -- an old joke that I love to tell every year)

But it is April indeed, and April is National Poetry Month. Whether it's Chaucer's "Aprille" percing to the roote the droghte of Marche or Eliot's cruelest month, it seems a month made for poems. In honor of April, in honor of our rather soggy weather, I give you Langston Hughes:


April Rain Song

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.