love this spring

Good morning, and welcome to National Poetry Month. This means that I will be posting a poem (more or less) every day from now until April 30—life does intervene, and sometimes I skip days or post multiple poems, but I think that's part of the fun.

I started celebrating National Poetry Month in 2007, when I was 21; I turn 40 this year, and it's a little crazy to think that I've been doing this for almost half my life. According to my spreadsheet, I've posted approximately 500 poems. So much has changed in the time I've been doing this—for me, for the world—but poetry remains a constant for me, even while my tastes evolve and what I want from poetry shifts with the times we live in. I'm never exactly sure, going in, what any year's April will bring, but I hope you'll enjoy the journey with me. ♥

I always try to start with a spring poem for April 1 (even when the weather is terrible, as it currently is here in Houston), and I really love this one.

How can I love this spring
when it's pulling me
through my life faster
than any time before it?
When five separate dooms
are promised this decade
and here I am, just trying
to watch a bumblebee cling
to its first purple flower.
I cannot save this world.
But look how it's trying,
once again, to save me.

—James A. Pearson, "This Spring," from The Wilderness That Bears Your Name (Goat Trail Press, 2024). I first encountered this poem on Instagram, which has been a surprisingly excellent source of poetry for me over the last few years.