I always find it fun to post this one on this day. Wrote it on the 5th, and liked the title as the poem was partially inspired by a rather gorgeous day.
April 5th, 2013 By Chris McDaniel
Spring: trees flying up to their birds;
Mists rising to greet
Their sky-bound cousins;
For the newborn sun.
The world is stretching,
Throwing off her pristine blanket
And shaking out her verdant hair,
Pale green with drowsiness.
Soon she will stand
To wreath herself in a robe
Of pink Azaleas and yellow roses
And shuffle towards the hearth-fire
To chase the ache from her bones.
As the flames suffuse her,
color blazes in her cheeks
and her hair flows,
But for now,
She languidly stretches,
Adrift in a waking dream,
Between the icy sea
And the hot sands,
Uncertain if she should go ashore
Or again drift away.