April Takes a Walk

[brynmawr1]

An old man walks with a shuffle,
his feet stirring the red-gold rustle
 
of dried leaves.  A low winter sun
casts a shadow, broad and long,
 
almost tickling his grand-daughter
up ahead.  She occasionally looks
 
back to see if he is still there,
but mostly she walks along, unaware 
 
of his smile.  Poking around with a stick
she finds a crocus newly broken through
 
the moist ground.  A purple tongue
getting its first taste of spring.

An old man walks with a shuffle,
his feet stirring the red-gold rustle
 
of his path’s tread.  An autumn sun
casts its shadow, broad and long,
 
just tickling his grand-daughter
up ahead.  She occasionally looks back
 
to see what he might have to offer,
but mostly she walks a long, unaware 
 
of his smile.  Poking around with a stick
she finds a crocus newly broke through
 
the moist earth.  A purple tongue
just getting its first taste of spring.