It’s April again.
And now
the bulbs have
Sprouted tulips

And the smell of
Hyacinths wreaks
Havoc upon the
Butterflies and
The bees that are
Coming out of hiding,

And the mountains
Are wearing color,
While the rivers
Become their shoes,
Flamboyan trees
And hibiscus ties
The laces.

The spring rain
Have baptized me
And washed the
Dirt off my face,
As my hands are
Buried deep in the
Soil of another day.