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Pit pat or tip tap

Steady droplets echo through

Our cozy dry room

Giggles in sprinkles

Morning rain only causes

While there's fog and there's frost in the flower bed,

And cold winter scenes flash through my head.

About the clime I complain, but the fact still remains -

fading light rolling

night settles in around me

The Bears of Jan and Stan Berenstain

The Hobbits of J.R.R. Tolkien

Stories for my daughter

Tales for my son

On this April journey,

I have fallen way behind, heaven knows,

My daughter balked this morning - rejecting

Her winter coat so late in the season.

Hey kid, we're in Minnesota.

Grading essays I don’t always like.

I’d much rather be riding my bike.

But I must buckle down and stop clowning around

whispering to whipping

winds caress then lash the pines

My eraser taps

Tick-tock on my desk top

Counting meter for words

Profound true joy I find each step I browse

Through library stacks; wandering until

I pause and flip through pages, fresh lines which rouse

I step outside unconsciously bracing;

To my surprise no icy blast slaps me;

Not warmth, but air fresh - and yes-

slightly scented of loam - of an earth

starting to stretch and unfold.

Light longer each day;

Snowfall piling, receding.

Hopeful spring progress.

The April Poetry Challenge is great!

With many fine entries to date. . .

You may feel aghast that the start time has passed.

But I assure you it’s not too late!

How cliche of me.

Your voice, your laugh, your step, your touch;

All this I miss when you're gone.

To create a new poem everyday

Is a most difficult task I must say.

I blank and I stall - but I'll overcome all;

My bike will inspire my way.