we are all April fools

are we not

when chill winds blow upon the water

cascading spent blossoms of pink and white confetti

into the sunlit air

how could we have been so suckered in

by that impossibly warm day in March when the ground

was covered in violets and the bees were already

at their dance

April smiles wide in her buttercup gown

all sunshine and pheromones and sweet kissed skies

as we cover the tender lettuces

with old sheets and pillow cases

to soften her frosty night

one more time.