Perhaps April is an hourglass
into which you descend;
via the
ever-shaky
ladder
of March,
which was so rushed
to release you
down
onto April’s edge,
but only for a short time
before you must leap in,
(because March decided for you
when it was time to descend).
You exhale,
and you tell
yourself:
I will find
my way
to the ground.
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