spring arrives regardless

Happy April, even if I do not really feel like it is April—2024 has already been kind of a year. But we're still here, so, as always, there will be one poem per day (ish) between now and April 30. 

Every time I feel close
to understanding the world
the white kettle on my stove sounds
and I rise, attending to it
with annoyance and the pleasure
of the unmade cup of tea.
This is what it's like to live in March
or perhaps always, an unconvincing word
in any context. Blue-gold on night's branches
what part do we take in the play?
Whose turn is it to perform competence
and knowledge in the absence of both?
Unable to feel anything against the wind
I know it is spring. Time tells me so.
Never (equally as unconvincing)
have I been someone with faith in order
and human law. Love is unpredictable.
Spring arrives regardless.

—Alex Dimitrov, "March," from Love and Other Poems (2021), and brought to me via the wonderful folks at the poetryisnotaluxury instagram. Yes, I do recognize that this is the second year in a row I have posted a March poem on April 1.