April is the cruelest month, according to T.S. Eliot, and so it might be. It is a month of dashed hopes. One day is summer like and the next we are back to winter. This April may be particularly cruel for those who feel trapped inside by the quarantine–worn out by worry and trying to learn new things, like how to home school their kids or keep them busy and happy while also keeping them safe. I can only say hang in there, things will get better.
Emily Dickinson spent most of her life self isolating. It gave her a chance to closely observe and write about small things that might be overlooked in a busier life, such as birds, flowers, and the change of seasons. We might want to follow her example, until things get back to normal. “New feet within my garden go” is a poem about seasons and new beginnings.
New feet within my garden go –
New fingers stir the sod –
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green –
New Weary sleep below –
And still the pensive Spring returns –
And still the punctual snow!
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