This cruel morning late in April
when winter’s jaws gnaw flesh.
as concrete morning April winds
hard as tarmac, never fresh
slips underneath his coat.
On hurried Friday footsteps,
spreadsheet past for April
deadlines passed. He doesn’t see
How weighed by rain the
crying cherry trees still create
a sleight of hand, a makebelief
that dismay of April soon will
turn to May.
Today I host the prompt at Real Toads. Just take a picture out the nearest window and extract a poem from the picture in maximum 100 words. Feel free to crosspost to Instagram with the tag #instapoetry