April comes like an idiot

It’s officially spring in Seattle. I can declare this because the tulips are blooming, and we’ve had a streak of three, yes, count them, three whole days of sunshine. My friends are even getting sunburnt, stumbling around my apartment, grinning ear to ear, happily drunk on wine and overexposure to Vitamin D.

“What are some poems and songs about spring?” I asked myself. (And by “myself” I mean Google.) In my hunt, I found this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay really funny.

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

P.S. I’m happy to return to Edna St. Vincent Millay again. This was almost my mantra in college as I ran around trying to do too many things on too little sleep.

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.