Lad April

Lad April

April is no lady;
   April is a boy,
Wearing torn green trousers
   Made of corduroy! 

Whistling thru the woodland
   Cheerily he goes,
Nothing but the brown dust
   covering his toes.

Lad, he cuts a sling shot
   Out of tough green wood,
Shoots at all the squirrels
   In the neighborhood. 

Clambers in the treetops,
   Swings across the air,
Never hurts a robin
   or a bluebird there.

April goes a-fishing
   with a small green rod,
No one else goes with him-
   Only, maybe, God.

            Kathryn Wood -