My April Poem

What is your April poem? asked Pliny the Elder. When did you write it?

I wrote it ten years ago, in April, on a day such as yesterday, or today.

May I see it? asked Pliny.

I'll read it to you, I replied, and went to find my book.

It's called 'Like This One'

There are days in April
When the air is like water
Translucent and soft
With a warmth that is filtered
Through holes in the sun.

Days when the air is like cotton
Which lets in wafts
Of spice through the weave.

There are days in April
When the air is like memory
Connecting landscapes
Seasons and hemispheres
Decades apart.

That is very beautiful, said Pliny. And most appropriate, as you wrote it a decade ago.

I hadn't thought of that, I said.