‘April showers bring May flowers,’
A British rhyme to cheer wet hours.
But in New Mexico’s southwest
We recite this poem in jest.
Through winter’s cold a little snow
Hardly seems the greatest foe.
March cajoles some early green
For hopeful deer now winter-lean.
But April shrivels in the wind,
Our hardest time begins in spring.
There’s still the heat of May to stand
And brutal June will parch the land
Before monsoon rains revive
The sturdy creatures that survive.
April here is no reprieve,
And gray oaks will drop their leaves,
Not for winter on my hill
But for spring and for April.
by Kate Rauner