Tag Archives: T.S. Eliot

“What Me, Cruel?”

April stares back at us and asks: What me, cruel? Because mournful windowsrattle in my winds and pots tip over, green with rust or lichen? Because hairs on your bare legsshiver like crocus? She finds us in her glassy eyeand springs:  You … Continue reading

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On the Battleground of Spring

We’re in the season of renewal. Passover and Easter are a prelude to redemption, rebirth,   reincarnation.   Bulbs signal regeneration with the tentative pale green shoots.  There is no end to the season’s “re”words – regeneration, revival, recharging, restoration.  Re … Continue reading

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Crazy for April

I was driving one morning, struggling with a tiredness that spring hadn’t repaired, when I heard an essayist on the radio tell me something new. “April is the cruelest month,” he said, quoting the famous opening of “The Waste Land.” … Continue reading

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