April: poetry and passion

April...the cruelest month said T.S. Eliot.

April is the cruellest month, breeding  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
Memory and desire, stirring  
Dull roots with spring rain.

It's a cruel start to April here.  The weather has been cold and damp, the late March snow on top of a warm February killed the blossoms on my cherry and pear trees.  There are a few dozen blooms on the forsythia.  Branches scratch at the sky. There is still almost a quarter of Lent to go.

I'm seeking solace in poetry of all sorts, giving a series on the psalms for my parish, nibbling at Marie Howe's The Kingdom of Ordinary Time.

PrayTell has an April litany of intercessions for fools, apt for both the day and season.  My favorite

For acrobats and poets and kite fliers, and all who do things that are not merely useful, that they may know the pleasure they give to others.

And a litany of prayers for the 5th Sunday in Lent, from the depths:

For the People of God, as we watch for Easter's dawn in our lives…we pray…


For refugees and immigrants, for all those in need of new homes in which to settle…we pray
For those trapped in the depths of war and of poverty…we pray
For hope, when all possibilities seem exhausted…we pray

For the sick and for the dying, and for those who accompany them…we pray
For our beloved dead, brought to life everlasting through God's Spirit dwelling within them …we pray.