The other day I saw the following poem posted by my friend Ellen on Facebook. I knew immediately
that I would have to share it
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough
You can no longer quiet me with the redness of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe the spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men eaten by maggots.
Life in itself is nothing, an empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~